The Sorceress Diaries: Book One
by Silvver Phoenix
Summary: (The Summer) Hermione begins a diary in 5th year & begins to pour into it her thoughts & feelings about the changes around her: in the wizarding world, at Hogwarts, in one best friend's temper & behaviour, & in the way she thinks and feels about the other
1. Monday, 3 July

**Author's Notes:** All right, the diary thing's been done a million times, I know. But after reading Order of the Phoenix, I really, really wanted to know what was going on in Hermione's head, and of course, what was going on whenever Harry wasn't around. Thus, I started fooling around with the idea for this fic…

Seeing as it's essentially Hermione's diary, the chapters are actually going to be in the form of diary entries, meaning that some chapters will be extremely short, while others will be extremely long. I'll try to compensate for the short chapters by posting them two at a time, or updating really quickly between short entries. I think I'm also going to split up the fic into three different "books" – Book One being the summer, Book Two being September to New Year's, and Book Three being New Year's and on. Yeah. I put a lot of thought into this. 

Just in case you were wondering, the idea for the title came from the book/movie "The Princess Diaries" by Meg Cabot. This isn't going to be in the same format as that book or anything, but the idea for this fic did come from that book, and sometimes I use the same quirky, humorous tone.

**Spoilers:** This thing is based upon Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, so if you haven't read it…what the hell are you waiting for?! Go! Buy it, read it, then fantasize about what the movie's gonna be like! Yay!

Since this is based on Order of the Phoenix, but it's from Hermione's point of view, you're going to see a lot of the same scenes Harry does in OotP…just from Hermione's perspective. But you'll also see stuff that Hermione does and Harry doesn't (eg. the beginning of the summer at Grimmauld place; what she and Ron do when they're off alone, wink wink, nudge nudge…j/k). I'm also putting in scenes where Harry was present, they were unimportant to him, so we wouldn't have gotten to see these scenes in OotP. That's going to be the fun of this…making up stuff that Harry didn't see or didn't care to mention. Mwahaha.

Also, as I said before, most of this is going to be funny and quirky, but since it _is_ based on OotP, as the year progresses and random bad stuff happens, it'll get dark at times too. Just warning you.

**Another warning:** Had to mention the inevitable…it's not going to be the main focus, but there will be a little bit of R/H in here. A little more than the book had, since it's from Hermione's perspective. That's also where the fun's at. Heh heh heh…

Is anyone still reading these notes? No? Good! Without further ado, I present to you…

**The Sorceress Diaries**

_Journal of Hermione Granger, aged fourteen and ten months_

Monday, 3 July

_8:47 a.m._

I, Hermione Granger, vowed long ago never to start a diary. Diaries are a waste of time. Diaries are for writing about crushes and dances and the like. Diary entries begin with, "Dear Diary", as if the book is a real person - which is silly, because I've only known of one diary that was actually somewhat of a real person, and it ended up being an instrument of evil which forced Ginny to open the Chamber of Secrets and release a deadly snake bent on murdering Muggle-borns.

For these reasons, and many more, I decided I would never, ever start a diary.

Therefore, I have started a journal.

I have several good reasons (and, admittedly, some not-so-good reasons) for starting a journal, as outlined below:

1) I am going completely mad, and it's only the third day of holidays. The _Daily Prophet has absolutely no news whatsoever concerning that small incident which happened last month involving the most feared Dark wizard of our time. Argh! Fudge heard what Harry said happened with You-Know-Who, but due to the fact that he's a complete imbecile, he not only sucked the soul out of the only person who could have proved Harry's story, but he also completely dismissed what Harry had to say as a product of Harry's "troubled mind and over-active imagination". Moreover, I think the Ministry is leaning heavily on the __Daily _Prophet _not to report anything suspicious, and also to discredit Harry in every way possible. There's nothing directly about Harry, of course…just little puns and comments about him…like he's some big joke or something!_

In short, You-Know-Who is back, he could be plotting to kill one of my best friends and/or create chaos and turmoil in the wizarding world, and our so-called government is completely ignoring all of this, therefore there is no news, therefore I have no idea what's going on! I've only heard from poor Harry once so far, and he sounded almost as frustrated as I feel. I wrote to Ron as soon as I got home from King's Cross, but I haven't received anything back from him yet, which is surprising, because he's usually the first person I get mail from on summer holidays. I'm sure he's just busy…Ginny hasn't written me either, after all…

2) Largely due to reason #1, I need somewhere to vent my frustration and put down my thoughts. Right now they're all swirling around in my head and I have no one to talk to about any of this and I can't stand it! I wish I had a Pensieve, but they're very rare, and according to _Magic Devices and Their Prices_, are also very expensive. Emma Crick's mother says a diary (journal) would be ideal for me, because I am anti-social and have difficulty communicating my thoughts and feelings in verbal form; therefore writing my feelings down is the only way I can achieve emotional satisfaction. Hoo-ray.

Off-topic, but necessary to discuss: Emma Crick's mother is a psychiatrist. She is a divorcée, because she cannot say that she is divorced, like normal people. I despise both Emma Crick, who has hated and tortured me since kindergarten, and her mother. Unfortunately, they happen to live next door to us, and I have to put up with the two of them every single summer. Mum is much too kind and/or naïve for her own good, and always politely invites Mrs. Crick in for a cup of tea when she "unexpectedly" shows up on our doorstep, which occurs every day promptly at three o'clock. Then Mrs. Crick comes in and analyzes my entire family, as well as all the neighbours, while Mum tries to be a polite listener. Mrs. Crick believes she's got me all psychiatrically figured out, even though she thinks I go to a private school in Norwich and doesn't realize that I could turn her into a toad if I really wanted to.

So after an hour or two of gossiping and spewing psychiatric rubbish, Mrs. Crick leaves, having poisoned my mother's mind with her psychoanalytic suggestions. Don't get me wrong – Mum is smart, and even she is getting a bit tired of Mrs. Crick's frequent visits. But I think that deep down, she's starting to believe the rubbish Mrs. Crick feeds her.

However, Dad says Mrs. Crick is a twit, and I am inclined to agree.

Even though I despise Mrs. Crick, after formulating this list in my head, I decided that the pros of starting a journal outweigh the cons (the only con being the horrible knowledge that I actually followed that cow's advice).

Back on-topic…

3) I always write down a list of weekly goals every Monday. It keeps me focused and organized. This journal is an ideal place to write down my list of weekly goals, instead of on spare pieces of parchment that I always seem to leave lying around, making it very easy for either Ron, Parvarti, or Lavender to find, and then they would laugh at me. Harry would not laugh at me about weekly goals. At least not to my face.

4) A very small part of me is frightened. Frightened for Harry…for obvious reasons. Frightened for Ron, because Professor Dumbledore is going to be relying on his parents and his older brothers to do some possibly dangerous tasks now. And yes, I'll admit, I'm somewhat frightened for myself and my family. Because everyone knows that last time, You-Know-Who killed hundreds of Muggles. Muggle-borns, specifically. And if it's true that Malfoy's father is a Death Eater…I mean, I heard what Malfoy said on the train: _"They'll be first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first!"_

I haven't told Mum and Dad anything about You-Know-Who. I don't think it's wise. Plus, how are people who don't even understand what Arithmancy is going to understand the implications of You-Know-Who's return?

Then again, Ron doesn't understand what Arithmancy is either, so there you are.

5) I already miss Ron and Harry. That's not really a reason for starting a journal, but I do all the same.

In summary: I am bored, frustrated, anxious, scared, and lonely. I can't talk to my parents about anything magical, I have no friends here, and I can't have a proper talk with anyone by owl; letters just aren't the same as having an actual conversation with someone. (Eg. Viktor, whose writing is, unfortunately, nearly illegible, and his written English isn't nearly as good as his spoken English. It's just not the same as having a real conversation with him.)

Mum was all for Mrs. Crick's advice for me to start a diary (journal). I suspect that this is because she hopes to find it and discover that, secretly, I really am interested in boys and makeup and fashion. I love Mum dearly, and I know she loves me too, but I think that she sometimes secretly wishes for a daughter who was a bit more…girly.

Anyway, there is absolutely no way that she'll be able to read this journal. I bought this book in Diagon Alley last year with no specific purpose in mind, except that I thought it was very interesting. Now I'm glad that I did buy it, as it's quite convenient for a journal. You see, as soon as I turn the page, my writing disappears, and it will only re-appear when the page is once again touched by me, and only me. So if Mum thinks she's going to come up to my bedroom and sneak a peak at my journal, I'm afraid she's going to be quite disappointed when she finds a completely blank book. Mrs. Crick will love that, if Mum tells her.

I sincerely hope that Mrs. Crick never meets Harry, because she would probably go berserk thinking up all sorts of nasty psychoanalytic terms to describe him. Love-starved childhood, several brushes with death, current anger and frustration at the world…he's like Mrs. Crick's dream patient come true.

Hm. I think Harry should start a journal, because I feel much, much better already.

Weekly Goals

1) Begin rigorous revising schedule (in somewhat of an attempt to beat boredom). Go over all old notes in preparation for September. Begin with Transfiguration notes this week.

2) Try to convince Dad that a trip to London would be fun and beneficial to the family, since we are not going on holidays this summer. In London, somehow cleverly slip away from parents and into Diagon Alley to get some decent reading from Flourish and Blotts. Have read every single book in the house at least three times already, including that romance novel Aunt Lottie bought me for Christmas two years ago.

3) Write to Ron again, demand as to why he hasn't written me back yet! Write to Ron again, sound cool, casual, and aloof, do not mention the fact that he hasn't written me back yet. Do not write to Ron again; instead, wait patiently for him to write, which he will, and then take sweet time to write back to him.

4) Write back to Viktor. Include helpful grammar tips?

5) Look up psychoanalytic in the dictionary to find out if it's actually a word.


	2. Friday, 7 July

**Author's Notes: **And the requests for fangirl status begin anew. ^_^ Cryptic Dreams and Lavender, I bestow upon you the humble duties of personal fangirls for this here fic. That means reviewing like crazy for every chapter, no matter how short it is, like this one. Apologies for that.

Thanks a bundle to all the people who have already reviewed and supported this new fic! Special thanks to all of you with kick arse constructive criticism…I'm gonna need it, because I just know I'm gonna screw something up, canonically. So don't hesitate to yell at me if I do so, or perhaps cyber slap me. Cyber slaps are hella cool.

Without further ado…Chapter Two. ^_^

Friday, 7 July

_11:20 a.m._

Well, I kept to my goal, and sure enough, Ron did write back. Although his letter was rather short, and not at all what I had expected. I suppose I'll copy it out in here…for future reference, you know…

_Dear Hermione,_

_The holidays have been fine so far, how are yours? It's a bit crazy around here, as usual. Mum and Dad are working really hard. Ginny and the twins are fine; Bill and Charlie are working. We might all take a vacation soon, maybe you can come with us._

_See you soon,_

_Ron_

First of all, this does not sound like Ron in the least. But it is his handwriting, and I've just checked – Polyjuice Potion may be able to change your physical appearance to resemble someone else's, but their personal traits, like handwriting, can't be reproduced. So this letter is not from a Polyjuiced spy of some sort posing as my best friend.

But something is most definitely not right with this letter. Ron has never begun a letter to me with the words "Dear Hermione" in his life. And last I checked, he didn't even know what a semi-colon was, never mind how to use it in a sentence.

My guess is that owls are being watched, and this is Ron's (or, most likely, Mr. and/or Mrs. Weasley's) cryptic way of telling me that they're all right. Despite that this is an enormous relief, the fact that Ron had to resort to communicating in some sort of code for fear of interception is somewhat daunting. It's obviously also a warning to watch what I put in my letters from now on. I can't believe I was so stupid as to not have thought of that before! I just hope Ron's sent the same kind of letter to Harry, and that Harry gets the message.

_3:23 p.m.___

That delightful woman is here yet again. Hoo-ray. (Hm, sarcasm is lost somewhat in writing. Ah well.)

Today's topic of conversation: my hair. Mrs. Crick, in all her infinite wisdom, says that I don't bother caring for it because I try to appear self-confident by blatantly not caring about my looks, which is really a thinly veiled disguise of a lack of self-confidence, whatever that's supposed to mean. Fat lot she knows – I explained that I've tried to tame my hair, and as it's a large waste of time and doesn't seem to make a difference to…anyone, I simply gave up on it because looks are superficial anyways. Mrs. Crick furrowed her eyebrows at me (which aren't really eyebrows, as she shaves hers off and pencils in fake ones every morning) when I voiced this opinion out loud.

"You know, dear," she said loftily, "de Nile is not just a river in Egypt."

Her wittiness never ceases to amaze me. (Sarcasm again.)

At this point Mum sighed and started bringing out the tea, and Dad quickly retreated to his study, leaving me to either endure tea with Sigmund Freud or make a break for it. I opted for the latter.

After running up to my bedroom, I took out Ron's letter again and realized, on the second read-through, that there is perhaps more to it than meets the eye. Obviously he's trying to tell me that his family is safe, and busy – I do hope Mr. and Mrs. Weasley aren't doing anything too dangerous for Professor Dumbledore – but something doesn't sit right. He mentions Ginny, the twins, Charlie, Bill, and his parents – but not Percy. Hm.

Also, the part about going on vacation is odd. And _"see you soon"_? Unless I'm mistaken, there are about two months of summer left. That does not constitute "soon".

All right, I think I'm quite done impersonating Nancy Drew for today. I have to finish that Transfiguration revision, and my boredom has at least produced some new ideas for S.P.E.W. which I feel have great potential. But I have to say…Ron's cleverer than I thought he was if he wrote that letter all by himself. Not to say that Ron's not clever…I mean, he's intelligent enough when he wants to be; he'd probably be acing all his subjects if he would only apply himself…he's just lazy, that's his problem, and I have a hunch that he deliberately does not try his hardest academically because he doesn't want to end up like Percy, being teased mercilessly by the twins and such.

Oh, God. I'm analyzing Ron. I think Mrs. Crick is finally getting to me.


	3. Monday, 10 July

**Author's Notes:** Holy amazing reviews, Batman! So many people are reviewing, and they're all lovely, long, constructive reviews. Huzzah! And the fangirl thing is out of control! Know that I did not start this craze…it all began with Prisoner of A Cabana, and two people I like to call PepsiAngel and She's A Star, the original fangirls…and then it spiralled out of control from there. But because it makes you all happy, the following people get to be fangirls due to special requests: San Chewie, Abigail Nicole (for her dictionary prowess), Courei, bluirinka, paintedblack 21, Ironic Trinity (again), and zvjezz. And Larzdinn gets to be one because he/she has shed their lurker veil and reviewed! And he/she pointed out the Nancy Drew thing. Heh. And Shadow Phantom, for hilarious reviews.

To answer a question: "This is just a question, but I'm kind of wondering how Hermy would know that Ron's parents were helping/doing dangerous things for Dumbledore if she didn't know about the Order until she goes to them to Sirius' house?" Maybe this is my bad, but wasn't she in the hospital wing at the end of Goblet of Fire, when Dumbledore asks Mrs. Weasley if he can rely on her and Mr. Weasley? Correct me if I'm wrong. ^_^

Without further ado…the chapter…

Monday, 10 July

_10:04 a.m._

No other word from Ron yet, or anything else from Harry. But I did get a rather lengthy letter from Viktor this morning, at the breakfast table, lucky me. This did not go unnoticed by Dad.

"Who's that from, sweetheart?" he asked casually, ducking Viktor's owl as it sailed out the window. My parents are quite good about the coming and going of owls every morning, even if they're completely clueless about anything else involving magic. Dad has a sort of Mr. Weasley-esque, misguided interest in it, and Mum's just happy that magic makes me happy. However, both are adamant about keeping magic separate from dentistry. They were fairly ticked when Madam Pomfrey shrunk my teeth last year.

"Is it the paper?" he asked in mild interest, glancing over my shoulder. Dad sometimes reads the _Daily Prophet for fun – he thinks it's funny. Yes, incredibly funny, making a mockery of Harry and blatantly ignoring the return of the most evil and terrifying wizard of the century…_

I shrugged as casually as possible, took a sip of orange juice, and then mumbled into my glass, "It's from Viktor."

Mum's face practically lit up as she put down her coffee. "Oh Hermione, that's wonderful! That's the third one this summer! Now isn't that sweet?"

"No, El, that's statutory rape," Dad growled, glowering at the letter in my hand.

"Glen!" Mum said sharply.

"I wasn't aware that letter-writing fell under the category of rape nowadays," I muttered sarcastically.

Dad is none too fond of Viktor. He was absolutely livid when I told him about the Yule Ball. According to him, a foreign, eighteen-year-old man has no business taking a young, impressionable, fourteen-year-old (soon to be fifteen) girl to a dance. Similarly, a young, impressionable, almost fifteen-year-old girl has no business visiting a foreign, eighteen-year-old man in Bulgaria over the summer.

Truth be told, I'm glad Dad said no. It gave me an excuse not to go…I mean, I'm not sure travelling is wise right now what with everything that's happening, although I do miss Viktor. And at least this way I also won't have to endure Ron's snide remarks.

Mum, however, is a different story. I think she's so excited that I'm "dating" that she wouldn't care if Viktor was forty years old. Both my parents seem to think that me having a pen pal means that I am really having a passionate, sordid affair with him.

Dad's always been overprotective (due to the lack of attention he got as a boy, Mrs. Crick theorizes, and the fact that I'm an only child), so it's not surprising, really, that he's so overprotective when it comes to Viktor.

Mum, however, is all for the passionate, sordid affair.

"Well you said it yourself, that's the third time in a week and a half that this man – " Dad continued ranting.

"He's only eighteen," I supplied in a bored voice.

"If Hermione's found a boyfriend, I think we should be happy for her," Mum interrupted loudly.

"Viktor's not my boyfriend," I reminded them both for the millionth time.

"Oh?" Dad said darkly, narrowing his eyes. "So he's just toying with you, then, eh? No commitment, those Bulgarians…"

Mum sighed loudly. "He is not 'toying with her', Glen. Hermione is nearly fifteen years old – "

"Elena, he's eighteen!"

"I'm five years younger than you!"

"That's different!"

Something should be said for my parents here. Both are fairly mild-mannered dentists, as well as prominent and well-respected members of our small community. They're the sort of people who are friendly, social, and pleasant. Neither of them have the heart to really be mean to anyone (eg. Mum's tolerance of Mrs. Crick), and they rarely fight with each other or anyone else. When all's said and done, they're nice, normal, easygoing people with perfect teeth and non-bushy hair (research is required into family history on that one).

However, when provoked – and that is not often – both my parents do have a nasty side. Mum becomes extremely bossy, and Dad is stubborn as a mule. In their wisdom, they decided to pass on these undesirable traits to me instead of the nice, normal, perfect teeth and straight hair genes. Instead, I am a decidedly not normal, magic-practicing witch with (formerly) buck teeth and bushy hair. (Further research is also required into possibility that I am adopted).

And so, on the rare occasion when Mum's bossiness and Dad's stubbornness come to a head, we end up with…this:

"Glen, put down that letter immediately, it's Hermione's!"

"I think I have the right as her father to know what this man – "

"He's only a teenager, Glen!"

" – is writing to my young and impressionable daughter!"

"I'm not impressionable, Dad, and I'm not all that young anymore, in case you've failed to notice," I spoke up dully.

"I know that, Hermione, but…find someone your own age, will you?" Dad pleaded. "What about your friend Harry?" he suggested brightly.

"No, Glen, Harry fancies that Ravenclaw girl," Mum said knowingly.

…

I have no idea if and when I told her that. And how does Mum remember house names when she still gets the name of the school mixed up?! I think Mum's been reading my letters from Ginny. (Further investigation is definitely required.)

"Well, your friend Ron, then," Dad suggested hopefully.

This caused a funny little sensation in the pit of my stomach, and I suddenly bristled. "Oh yes Dad, there's a brilliant match," I said coldly. "At least Viktor noticed that I was a girl when he met me, whereas it took Ron four whole years."

And for reasons unbeknownst to even me, I stomped out of the kitchen, came upstairs, read the controversial letter from Viktor ("I am still wishing you could be coming, Hermione…every day I am thinking of you…but I will still be seeing you year next, I am hoping" – he really is sweet), and then started writing in here. 

I think Dad's mention of Ron just struck a nerve because that letter of his is still bothering me. That must be it. I think I'll have a look at it again.

Weekly Goals

1) Abandon hopes for trip to Diagon Alley…find Muggle literature to satisfy obsessive reading compulsions. (Not Nancy Drew. Beloved American detective is bad influence. Switch to Sherlock Holmes?)

2) Convince parents that am not exchanging steamy love letters with Viktor Krum. Also, ask about family history concerning bushy hair/possibility of adoption.

3) Draft rough copy of amendments to and new ideas for the Society for Promotion of Elvish Welfare.

4) Begin Charms revision.

5) Burn, or find a place to hide, all of Ginny's letters.

6) Stop feeding Crookshanks so much, as he is getting quite fat.


	4. Tuesday, 11 July

**Author's Notes: **I feel bad for writing short chapters, I really do. But Hermione can only write so much about one day, I figure, unless it's an extremely action-packed day, like one of the ones coming up which ended up being seventeen pages long on Word. o_0 Anywho, I'm updating all quick-like because I feel bad about the short chapters. Rejoice!

What is a fangirl, some of you ask. Well, I'm really not sure. Like I said, it started with two reviewers in Prisoner of A Cabana, and it all escalated from there. All you get for being a fangirl is the delightful responsibility of reviewing every chapter, a mention in the author's notes, and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart. That is what being a fangirl is all about. So, because they asked, these people get to have that warm, fuzzy feeling inside: hermione8meg and Voldemort's Girlie. And Cryptic Dreams gets special mention for a very sleep-deprived review. ^_^

Tuesday, 11 July

_10:29 p.m._

**Number of times I have been insulted today: **7****

**Number of witty come-backs I have come up with: **5****

**Number of times I've really missed Ron and Harry:** 9

**Number of deep, emotional conversations I've had with my mother:** 1

Yes. This has been quite the eventful day.

I suppose I should start by mentioning that I've still had no other news from Ron. I got another letter from Harry, however, of the short-and-abrupt variety. It was basically, _"Hi Hermione, how are you, have you heard anything from anyone yet?" I haven't written him back, just because I feel horrible that I haven't heard anything from anyone yet. Poor Harry, stuck with those dreadful relatives of his, devoid of any proper news. And he being the one who was there…who watched it happen…they should really keep him informed, honestly…_

I don't know who I mean by 'they'. The powers at be, perhaps? I'm not sure; it's getting late, and I'm losing all feeling in my right foot because Crookshanks is currently asleep on it.

Back on-topic: Seeing as I was beginning to suffer from serious literature withdrawal, this afternoon I was forced to walk to the public library and get some Muggle reading material. Not that that's all that bad; I have to keep in touch with the Muggle literary world as well, after all. So I walked rather ungracefully home, sagging under the weight of twenty or so books. And just as I was coming up the walkway, I heard an all-too-familiar, unpleasant-sounding voice say, "Well, well, well. Look who's come out of her hole."

I sighed and turned to see Emma Crick, in all her badly-bleached hair and phoney tan glory, standing in the doorframe of the front door of her house.

"Hello, Emma," I said in a bored voice. She only smirked at me, heavily make-upped (this is possibly not a word – I'll have to check) eyes travelling to the mountain of books in my arms. 

"Oh, and here I thought you had gone and got a life," she said pityingly, shaking her head.

"Hm. And here I thought that you had gone and got some dignity," I replied scathingly, glancing at her newly-acquired belly-button ring. I had heard Mrs. Crick telling Mum about it, but Mrs. Crick evidently thinks that the piercing is, "A healthy expression of teenage rebellion."

Let it be written here: If I ever so much as consider getting someone to stick a sharp, metallic object into my navel, I should like to be shot.

Emma raised an eyebrow at me, seemingly surprised at this bold and, if I may say so myself, rather quick and clever comeback. Four years of having to deal with Malfoy has taught me a thing or two, I believe. Hanging around Ron and Harry may have something to do with it as well.

"So little Miss Granger's finally found the courage to stand up for herself," said Emma mockingly, that smirk still on her face.

"Don't you have something better to do?" I asked lightly. "Dye your hair back to a less hideous colour, perhaps?"

I would have made Ron proud.

Emma's face darkened. She stepped out of her doorway and onto the front porch of her house, leaving the door open. "For your information, I am waiting for a car to arrive. I'm going on a date," she sneered. "You know, with a boy? Perhaps you've heard of them?"

"No, I don't believe I have," I said sarcastically.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Emma said loftily, looking me over.

"Have a good summer, Emma," I announced loudly, starting up the steps to my front porch.

"I mean, look at you," she continued, obviously enjoying herself. "You're such a freak that even your own parents wanted to send you away to a private school. You're an embarrassment to your own family, Granger."

Well, at least I don't have a bellybutton ring.

"Yes," sneered Emma, "what boy could possibly ever see something in you?"

SLAM!

Emma's front door violently slammed shut behind her. She gave a little shriek and jumped at the sound, and then stared in surprise at the door. Emma glanced around, as if expecting to see other doors and windows slamming shut in a sudden gust of wind. But there hasn't been so much of a breeze all summer.

"Very windy today, isn't it?" I said mildly. And feeling immensely satisfied with myself, I marched into my house.

Once I had gotten into the front parlour, though, and had put down all my books, I felt my satisfaction with myself slowly ebbing away. I knew that I had magically made Emma's door slam shut, though it had been completely accidental. Under the Statute of Secrecy, however, any magic performed by an under-age witch or wizard is punishable, even the accidental, emotional kind that requires no wand and no spell. Harry blowing up his aunt, for instance, should have landed him an expulsion, or at least a suspension, from Hogwarts in third year. I froze there in the parlour, wondering if a simple door slamming shut was big enough to be detected by the Ministry.

I think I stood there for at least twenty minutes, waiting for a letter announcing my expulsion to come soaring in through the window. But no owl came. I theorize this is because the Ministry is too busy making up horrible lies about Harry and Dumbledore to care about my neighbour's door slamming shut. Or that a door slamming shut is such a very non-magical, mundane thing that they didn't even check to see if magic was involved.

Why I got angry enough to magically slam the door shut is beyond me. I think Emma's just very good at getting under my skin. She's had since kindergarten to practice, after all. Emma Crick could give Malfoy a run for his money any day, and she doesn't even have two empty-headed goons following her around.

Eventually, I allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief, and I shakily walked into the kitchen, where, to my delight, I found Mrs. Crick having a cup of tea with my mother. Not really wanting to deal with both Crick daughter and mother in one day, I tried to edge out of the kitchen unnoticed, but their topic of conversation made me stop.

" – not necessarily a bad thing, El, but she has always shown tomboyish tendencies, hasn't she?"

"Well now, I wouldn't say tomboyish – "

"For example," Mrs. Crick interrupted, "those friends of hers at school, her closest ones are boys, are they not?"

"Well, yes," Mum said wearily, "Harry and Ron. But – "

"She obviously does not identify with girls her own age," Mrs. Crick said knowingly. "It's a social thing, really, once again showing that lack of self-confidence. She's more comfortable around boys because they're not as socially demanding or emotionally complex as girls her own age. It's a defence mechanism, you see."

"That's not really fair, Viv," Mum countered, and I was surprised to hear a note of anger in her voice. "You don't even know Hermione's school friends, and she does have a few girlfriends – Ginny, Ron's sister, and the girls in her dormitory."

I should tell Parvarti and Lavender that they're now my girlfriends. They'll be thrilled.

"Well, has she shown any interest in boys?" Mrs. Crick asked, sipping at her tea. "I mean, does she have a boyfriend?"

"Well…there is one boy…he writes to her…"

"Ah," said Mrs. Crick darkly, "a long-distance relationship. Doomed to fail, statistically."

At this point I noticed that my fists were clenched and that there was a kind of ringing in my ears. Mum and Mrs. Crick still hadn't noticed me lurking in the entrance to the kitchen.

"She displays the classic signs many of my patients having problems with self-confidence do," said Mrs. Crick wisely. "Unsocial behaviour, tomboyish tendencies, lack of care for her appearance – "

It was at this point that I decided I had had quite enough. I stepped into the kitchen, seething. "If you're both quite done," I said loudly, feeling very satisfied at the way they both jumped guiltily at the sound of my voice, "analyzing my friends and defence mechanisms and behaviour – "

"My dear girl, I am simply doing what I was educated and trained to do," Mrs. Crick said, sounding offended.

"What, stick your nose into everyone else's business?" I demanded. "Well, if that's what you're educated and trained to do, Mrs. Crick, I must say that you're doing a bang-up job."

Mrs. Crick's mouth fell open. I spun on my heel and stomped up to my bedroom, where I dropped onto my bed and picked up some book that I had left lying there. Violently I flipped through the pages, seeing nothing on them.

_I am not unsociable,_ I thought furiously, _I do not display a lack of self-confidence, I do not need to care more for my appearance, and if being tomboyish means having two best friends who are fun and who care about me, boys or not, then bring on the tomboyish tendencies._

I heard my bedroom door open and quickly pretended to be fascinated by what I was reading as Mum sat down on my bed next to me.

"Mrs. Crick's gone home," she said. "I think you offended her."

I remained silent, still pretending to read. "That was quite rude, Hermione," Mum chastised. She suddenly smiled widely. "But I've been dying to say it myself for some time, I must admit."

"Why do you put up with that cow?" I burst out, lowering my book.

Mum looked half-surprised, half-amused at this outburst. "Because she is a patient of mine, Hermione, and yes – a friend." I looked skeptically at her. "Mrs. Crick doesn't mean any harm. She's really just trying to be helpful in her – er – own way."

"Real helpful," I muttered dryly. But what Mrs. Crick said had stuck, to my chagrin. About me being too tomboyish…and I think that's why I suddenly blurted out, "You think I'm not girly enough, don't you?"

"Whatever are you talking about?" Mum asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Do I have tomboyish tendencies and lack care for my appearance?" I demanded.

Mum sighed and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Hermione – "

"But you do wish I was more girly," I said accusingly. "You wish I was into fashion and makeup and boys – "

"What I do wish is that you would stop taking everything Mrs. Crick says so seriously," Mum interrupted. "I know you'll never dutifully apply make-up every morning or read fashion magazines, but that really doesn't matter to me honey, you know that! You're a smart, beautiful girl, Hermione Granger, and don't you forget that," she said adamantly. "You have amazing gifts that Dad and I could never have dreamed of. You're the smartest sorceress in your class. And, thank heavens, you've never wanted to get your navel pierced," she said, smiling dryly.

"I am a witch, Mum, not a sorceress," I said in exasperation.

 Mum smiled and smoothed my hair with her hand, something she hasn't done since I was small. "Oh, same difference. What matters is that Dad and I are proud of you, darling. You've already grown into a very mature, intelligent young woman."

I was taken aback by this statement, and suddenly felt very warm inside. It was like one of those touching mother-daughter moments like in films. I smiled up at Mum and then sighed, feeling much better. "So d'you think Mrs. Crick will be back?" I asked wryly.

"Undoubtedly. But I predict she'll stay away for a day or two, at most. She was quite offended."

Now I felt much, much better.

A thought suddenly came to me, and I twisted to look Mum in the eye. "Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Does anyone else in our family have bushy hair?"

Mum snorted, something I've never heard her do before. "When I was your age, birds used my hair as a nest."

I gawked at her. This straight, shiny-haired creature had once had hair like mine?!

"A little hair product doesn't hurt, you know…" Mum advised.

I scowled, my heart sinking. "I can't be bothered with that stuff every day," I said, remembering the hours of careful work and potion that had gone into my hair at the Yule Ball last year.

"Well, I grew out of it, somewhat," Mum said, shrugging. "I'm sure you will, too."

With another smile and a loving pat on the back, Mum rose and left my bedroom, and I did a little silent dance for joy, scaring Crookshanks, who had been sleeping contentedly on my pillow. I managed to tell off Emma Crick and her mother, may grow out of bushy hair, am evidently an amazing sorceress, and my parents love me for who I am.

I really do have the best parents in the world. With Mr. and Mrs. Weasley coming in a close second, of course.

It's times like these when I feel very, very sorry for Harry…

I will not cry.


	5. Wednesday, 12 July

**Author's Notes: **Since this is the shortest chapter ever, and the next chapter is the longest chapter ever, I decided to post them together! So it's like…one extremely super long chapter! Hoorah!

I just realized that I haven't really had any hella cool review songs of late, so I decided to do one for my disclaimer, even though it's a little late. The following was inspired by Family Guy.

_Can't touch me!_

_Dodododo__, do do, dodo!_

_Can't touch me!_

_Dodododo__, do do, dodo!_

_My my my my stories have her characters,_

_And the world is hers, that's true._

_But 'cause I have a disclaimer,_

_JKR you can't sue! Can't touch me!_

_Dodododo__, do do, dodo!_

_Can't touch me!_

_Dodododo__, do do, dodo!_

_Harry time!_

_*Long-winded break dance scene involving Lil Fred, Big G, and Harry from my parodies*_

Wednesday, 12 July

_4:30 p.m.___

I have already read four of the books I took out yesterday, and have not only a splitting headache, but also a horrid sunburn from reading outside all day.

Still no other news from Ron. Must not dwell on this.

Why am I even writing in here? Oh no. I have become the sort of person who writes in her diary over every trivial little thing that happens. Monday: ate a sandwich. Tuesday: went outside.

I think the sun has gotten to my head.

On an upbeat note, it is now 4:32 p.m., and true to Mum's prediction, there's still no sign of Mrs. Crick. Hooray!

I do wish Ron would write, though.


	6. Friday, 14 July

**Author's Notes: **Extremely long and detailed chapter alert! You may ask how one person could remember all this in detail, but just recall…its Hermione. ^_^

Congratulations to Ritzel, new fangirl, and the first ever fan_boy, Xavior Nightshadow. Godspeed, fanboy. Godspeed._

Lavender, I read Princess in Waiting too, and I was excited when they mentioned the hot guys from Gilmore Girls in that book too! Go Jess! *Swoons*

…

Still can't touch me!

Dodododo…

Friday, 14 July

_12:23 a.m.___

So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours that I've only just got a moment to myself. Ginny's fast asleep (I don't see how anyone can sleep soundly in this house, though) but I'm wide awake, and I found myself grabbing a spare quill and this book from my trunk a few minutes ago. I just…need to write things down and have a look at them.

It was a fairly uneventful day until this evening, at about seven o'clock, just before tea. Unfortunately, Mrs. Crick seemed to have put her temporary offence at my ranting behind her, because she "dropped by" to return a letter addressed to us that had been "delivered to her house by mistake" (Dad and I suspected that she stole it from our mailbox). Mum took pity on her and invited her in to eat with us.

Mrs. Crick hadn't forgotten my rant on Wednesday, however, and she seemed to be walking on eggshells when addressing me. She'd obviously decided that analyzing my lack of self-confidence, tomboyish tendencies, and/or emotional dissatisfaction was now dangerous waters, and moved on to criticizing a broader, safer subject – teenagers in general. She started telling us about how youth crime has gone up twenty percent in the past year, and that teenagers as young as thirteen are physically abusing their siblings and whatnot.

Dad said something about me being underprivileged, as I didn't have any siblings to abuse.

"Jest if you will, Glen," Mrs. Crick said huffily. I was able to roll my eyes, as my back was turned to her; I had gone to fetch another place setting for her. "You wouldn't believe the number of troubled teenagers I get…all into drugs, gangs, cults…" she suddenly lowered her voice. "Why, I've even seen it in our own neighbourhood. On the way over here, I spotted a group of people lurking down the street…" she lowered her voice again, until she was barely whispering, as if afraid of being overheard, "all wearing black robes."

The glass I had just fetched for Mrs. Crick slipped out of my hands and smashed on the floor. Mrs. Crick yelped and Mum rushed over to help me clean up.

I must have looked a fright – all the blood seemed to have drained from my face, and my hands were trembling. I slowly knelt down to help Mum clean up, reaching out towards the broken glass as if in a daze. Mum's eyes met mine. She had caught the comment about people in robes, but she couldn't have known what it really meant. But I had Malfoy's foul voice was ringing in my ears.

_"Mudbloods and Muggle-borns first…"_

I abruptly stood up and dashed over to the window above the kitchen sink, then threw aside the curtains and stared out at Arbour Court.

It was difficult to see anything, because all the streetlamps had gone out. This in itself, I thought, was a bad sign. But as I continued to search the dark street, I saw movement down the road. My heart stopped; there, moving in the shadows down the street, was a group of robe-clad figures.

_Death Eaters_, I thought as my mind recovered from temporary, terror-induced shock. _Death Eaters on _Arbour Court___.___

Without a second thought, I flew out of the kitchen ("What is wrong with that girl?" Mrs. Crick cried, scandalized), pounded up the stairs, and ran into my room. My trunk burst open magically, and I dove for the object lying atop all my books and other school things – my wand.

I don't know what I thought I was going to do. What could an almost fifteen-year-old witch possibly have done against a group of Death Eaters? I mean, I'm not Harry. But I wasn't going to sit there and let them get anywhere near my parents, either. So I fled down the stairs (Mum, Dad, and Mrs. Crick had come to the bottom of the staircase to investigate my mysterious behaviour and had to leap out of my way), wand out and ready, and stood shaking at the front door, suddenly unsure of what exactly to do.

"What in the world is wrong with you, girl?" Mrs. Crick demanded. I barely heard her; the ringing in my ears was back.

"Hermione…" Dad began in puzzled disbelief, eyeing my wand.

"Who do you think you are to give your parents such a fright, running around like a chicken with its head cut off – " Mrs. Crick continued ranting.

"Be quiet, Mrs. Crick," I ordered in a high-pitched voice. I don't know what I was waiting for – the sounds of chaos, panic, and destruction, perhaps?

" – and waving a stick around wildly!" Mrs. Crick continued, outraged. "What – "

"Shut up!" I snapped, and this time my voice sounded wobbly. I had heard sounds outside the door.

But I stood my ground, and in that moment I knew why I had been put in Gryffindor.

I threw open the door and prepared myself to scream the most horrendous curse I could think of, but before I could, my brain registered bright red hair. My heart started beating normally again and I nearly sobbed with relief. Lucius Malfoy did not stand on my doorstep…Ron did.

"Ron!" I cried in relief. And then I did a very silly thing - I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him very tightly.

I could practically feel the heat radiating off Ron's face. "Er, hello to you too, Hermione," he muttered, embarrassed. Also rather embarrassed, and suddenly very aware that my parents and Mrs. Crick were standing behind me, I quickly let go of him. I marked the fact that Ron had somehow managed to grow a couple more inches in the span of two weeks, and that he is now nearly as tall as Dad, and Dad's quite tall.

"I thought you were a Death Eater!" I blurted out, suddenly feeling extremely stupid.

Ron blinked and looked astounded. "Why?" he asked incredulously, which made me feel even stupider.

It was then that I noticed the group of robe-clad figures behind him, crowded on my front porch. There was Ron's father, his eldest brother Bill, and a young witch whom I didn't know at that time. But most shocking was that two of my old Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers – Professor Moody and Professor Lupin – were standing next to Bill.

Except this wasn't really the Moody that had been my teacher, as that Moody had been a crazed impostor. But that's beside the point.

"See, Mad-Eye, I told you we shouldn't sneak about and take out all the lights," said the pale young witch, Tonks. "We scared her senseless."

"Shut up and quit dallying," Moody barked, shoving forward into the house. I took a startled step backwards, possibly due to the whole crazed impostor thing. "We could have already have been seen by countless Muggles!"

Mr. Weasley and the others followed suit, clambering into the house. Tonks looked around in interest.

"Death Eaters, eh?" barked Moody, his magical blue eye on me. I felt my cheeks grow hot, extremely aware of my paranoia and stupidity in front of him. "Death Eaters wouldn't come to your front door, girl. Oh no, they'd – "

"Alastor," interrupted an even shabbier and more tired-looking Lupin than the one I remembered. Moody turned both eyes towards Lupin, who nodded slightly towards my parents and Mrs. Crick.

Mrs. Crick was backed against the wall, plainly terrified of Mad-Eye Moody. She was gawking at his mangled face and magical blue eye, which was rolling about. Dad had a protective arm around Mum's shoulders, but neither of them looked frightened – they knew Mr. Weasley and Ron, after all – just confused. Dad was looking at Moody's magical eye with great interest. But now both Moody's eyes were fixed on Mrs. Crick.

"A Muggle?" he roared. He whirled to glare at the pale witch, who at that time had short, curly blonde hair. "Tonks! You said the house was clear!"

"Well she wasn't here ten minutes ago," Tonks retorted. "How was I supposed to know she'd show up?"

"Um…if you don't mind me asking," I said in a small voice, "why are you all here?"

There was a short silence, in which my parents stared expectantly at the little ragtag group of wizards, and Mrs. Crick continued to look frightened and bewildered, now slowly backing against the wall.

"Ron, did you send Hermione her letter?" Mr. Weasley asked kindly. But his voice sounded a bit peculiar, as if this had all been rehearsed.

"I only got one letter from Ron…about a week ago…and it didn't say anything about you coming here," I spoke up faintly.

"Oh no," said Lupin pityingly. The feeling that this was all just a show for my parents increased. "Then you had no idea we were coming, did you?"

Mum was starting to look a bit more relaxed. "Coming…why?" she asked as politely as possible.

"Well, you see, my family and I are going on a little holiday, and Ron had written Hermione to see if she could come with us," Mr. Weasley explained in the same well-rehearsed way. "I suppose she didn't get the letter…we thought that she hadn't written back because everything was fine…"

"Oh," said Mum with a relieved little laugh, "we thought something was wrong…you gave us quite the fright…"

"Well, come into the kitchen," Dad said, still watching Moody's eye with fascination, "I suppose we can talk about this holiday…although Hermione's only been home for about two weeks, and she's not packed or anything…"

The group followed my parents into the kitchen. This left Ron and I alone in the front parlour, except, of course, for Mrs. Crick, who was still huddled in a corner, flabbergasted.

Now, any other time I have gone to the Burrow, I have been notified well in advance that someone was coming to take me there, and usually, that I was going to the Burrow in the first place. And then, it was usually only Mr. Weasley who came to get me, not a retired Auror, a strange witch, Ron's oldest brother, and a werewolf. I whirled on Ron, furious.

"How was I supposed to know you were coming?" I demanded, hands on my hips. "I only got one letter from you, and it was that one from a week ago that made no sense whatsoever. Didn't you think that perhaps I didn't write back because I never got your stupid second letter? You just barged in here, scaring the dickens out of me, by the way, without - "

"Hermione!" Ron interrupted, holding up his hands defensively. "There was no second letter."

The words died on my lips, and I stared at him blankly. "Oh."

"I told Dad you'd go berserk," Ron said in exasperation, shaking his head. "See, you couldn't know when we were coming, because Moody thought that there was a chance the owl could be intercepted. Dad and Lupin just said that we'd tried to send a letter so your parents wouldn't be surprised when we just showed up," Ron explained.

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open slightly. It suddenly dawned on me that his short letter had contained hints and clues that I had somehow missed. _Wish you could come…see you soon…_Hints and clues that they were coming. Or so I thought.

"So that first letter…it was a warning?" I said slowly.

"Warning?" Ron repeated, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Warnings. Hints. In that letter you sent me."

"What hints?"

I stared at him, feeling very, very foolish.

"There…weren't any hints or clues…in that letter, were there?" I asked faintly.

"What the devil are you talking about?"

All right, so perhaps my Nancy Drew-esque analysis of Ron's letter was somewhat uncalled for. Perhaps I overestimated Ron's intellect in thinking that he would have put a deeper meaning into the seemingly short and normal letter. But I still think that he did, perhaps subconsciously, without meaning to. The fact that he wrote 'See you soon' at the end of the letter was not an accident. Maybe I should have picked up on that and I would have been a bit more prepared when he showed up on my doorstep.

Thankfully though, before I could make even more of a fool out of myself, Bill poked his head out of the kitchen, giving us a slight wink. "Dad's talking to your parents, Hermione. I think you'll be able to come. Better go pack."

"What's he telling them - ?" I began to ask, but Bill had already ducked back into the kitchen.  
"I'll come with you," Ron offered. I nodded numbly and started towards the stairs. Ron stepped around Mrs. Crick, raising an eyebrow at me, and then followed me up the staircase to my room.

It suddenly occurred to me that Ron had never been in my house before, never mind my bedroom. This thought made me abruptly feel awkward and uncomfortable as I pushed open the door to my room, which suddenly seemed very childish-looking and pink.

"So…this is your room," said Ron, and he sounded as uncomfortable as I felt. "It's…nice."

"Erm…thanks," I replied stupidly, not making a move to pack anything. I still wanted to know what was going on, and I didn't quite want to start tossing my undergarments into my suitcase in front of Ron, either.

He smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, looking around my horridly pink room. Ron's face suddenly split into a huge grin as he walked over to my desk and picked up _Hogwarts: A History, which had been standing upright on my desk in an accessible place for easy reference. He smirked as he held it up._

"Is this its place of honour?" Ron asked teasingly. He ducked as I threw a pillow at him, and then everything was normal and comfortable again.

"So where are we going? Not the Burrow?" I demanded as I started pulling out clothes and shoving them into my trunk. Ron bent over to investigate the source of a loud purring noise, and tried to detach Crookshanks, who had wrapped himself around Ron's ankle. Suddenly triply fond of Crookshanks, I used the opportunity to shove my underwear into the trunk while Ron wasn't looking.

"I don't know if I can tell you right now – Moody was going on about how there's spies on every corner and – hey, cool, can I have one of these?" he picked up an ordinary, Muggle pen from my desk.

"Sure," I said impatiently, throwing a few books into my trunk. "But why do I have to – wait, Harry's okay, isn't he?" I suddenly said in alarm. "And nothing's happened, has it? I'm not in danger, or my parents - ?"

"Don't worry," Ron cut in. "Nothing's happened. And Harry's fine. Dad said we have no reason to believe you're in danger…just Mum would feel a lot better if you were staying with us…I mean, so would I…" he muttered, the tips of his ears glowing red.

My heart swelled, but I was brought back to the situation at hand by the muffled sounds of voices in the kitchen. "They're not telling my parents about You-Know-Who, are they?" I asked anxiously.

Ron shook his head. "I think they're telling them that we're going on some kind of holiday, and that I wanted you to come with us," he explained, suddenly smiling wryly. "Some holiday, wait 'til you see this place."

I didn't like the idea of them lying to my parents and making up some sort of story…but I didn't like the idea of them telling my parents the truth, either. "My parents, though…they'll be okay, right?" I asked quickly. "I mean, with You-Know-Who…there were Muggle killings before…" I suddenly choked on my own voice and fell silent.

"There's nothing to worry about…well…yet," Ron replied uncomfortably. "That's what the adults keep saying – he's still biding his time. That's the only information we can get out of them – that, and Harry's okay. But nothing's going to happen to your parents, Hermione," Ron said firmly. "My parents won't let anything happen to them."

Bill's voice calling our names from downstairs interrupted the conversation. "Almost done up there?" he called. There was a hint of amusement in his voice, and I made sure to roll my eyes at Bill's tone before slamming my trunk shut. It was packed, if haphazardly, and I had my wand tucked up my sleeve, just in case of an emergency. Ron grabbed my trunk and started hauling it down the stairs. I picked up Crookshanks and followed.

My parents and the group of wizards were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I was relieved to see that neither Mum or Dad looked frightened or bewildered – Dad looked quite relaxed, as did Mum, although her eyes looked suspiciously misty as she glanced at Ron.

Mum whispered goodbye, hugging me tightly and nearly crushing poor Crookshanks, who was still in my arms. I found myself even more curious as to what they had told my parents that would make them let me go so easily, and on such short notice. "Be sure to write, honey," Mum said as she released me.

"We won't see you again 'til Christmas, then," said Dad as he also hugged me, "but then we'll go on a nice, family vacation together. How's that sound?"

"Great," I said with a strained smile as I broke away from them. Mr. Weasley and Lupin stepped forward to shake my parents' hands. While they were occupied, I asked Ron in a whisper how we were getting to wherever we were going.

"Same way we got here – Knight Bus," Ron explained quietly. "Tonks, Bill, Dad, and me are going to come with you, and Moody and Lupin are going to Apparate ahead."

"Hold on a moment, Arthur," Moody suddenly barked as Mr. Weasley turned to leave. The retired Auror took out his wand and pointed it at Mrs. Crick, who I had just noticed was still cowering near the stairs. She looked positively terrified of him. "_Obliviate__!"_

There was a flash of light, and a very dazed-looking Mrs. Crick slumped to the ground. Mum clapped a hand to her mouth, but Dad looked strangely satisfied.

"Mad-Eye…" Lupin groaned. "That was not the way to go about doing it. Now you've frightened Hermione's parents – "

"Had to be done," Moody said shortly, tucking his wand away and glancing at my surprised-looking parents. "She'll come to once we're gone. Then you might want to send her home."

I wonder what Mum and Dad told Mrs. Crick when she woke up, or how they explained my sudden disappearance. Whatever the case, I hope the whole ordeal caused some sort of psychological damage so that Mrs. Crick will be too occupied with analyzing herself in the future to come bother us.

Before I knew it, Tonks had flagged down the Knight Bus, and Moody and Lupin had Disapparated. I've never been on the Knight Bus before, and it's quite difficult to believe that Muggles don't notice it. It would be really interesting to read up on it…the spells that are in place to keep it unnoticed must be really complex…anyway, this violently purple, triple-decker bus appeared with the loudest sound I've ever heard in my life when Tonks stuck out her wand. We clambered aboard (Ron paid my fare since I didn't have any wizard currency – I have to remember to pay him back) and got seats near the back – except they weren't really seats, they were four-poster beds that slid back and forth as soon as the bus started moving again.

Not quite sure of what to do, I perched myself on the end of my bed, which is what Tonks and Ron did. However, Bill stretched out across his bed and promptly fell asleep. Mr. Weasley went up to the next level to "keep an eye on things".

I should probably mention now that Tonks is a Metamorpmagus – that is, she was born with the rare talent to change her physical appearance at will. Metamorphmagi are really rare, I've read all about them, and it was really interesting to talk to Tonks about her talent. Except that before she had flagged down the Knight Bus, Tonks had changed into a middle-aged witch with chin-length, mousey brown hair. So it was a bit weird talking to this woman who I knew was Tonks, though she wasn't really Tonks, physically speaking.

"We have to be careful about who sees who," Tonks explained quietly. The Knight bus was mostly empty except for an elderly wizard lying wide awake at the front, though he was well out of earshot. "If you know what I mean," the middle-aged Tonks said.

I didn't, but I nodded sagely nonetheless. Crookshanks, who didn't seem too perturbed about the sudden travelling, had curled up on my lap. "If you don't mind me asking, is Tonks your real name, or just a nickname?" I said conversationally. Ron had hurriedly introduced the two of us as we had climbed aboard the bus.

Bill, who was not asleep after all, stretched his arms and snorted. "'Course it's not, it's her last name," he explained, grinning slyly. "Her real name's – "

"Don't you dare, Weasley," Tonks threatened.

"Nymphadora," Bill smirked. Tonks shuddered and gave him a murderous look.

"Careful, Bill, she's an Auror," Ron reminded him, grinning lopsidedly.

"You're an Auror?" I asked with great interest. But I quickly shut my mouth as Bill and Tonks gave Ron and I furtive looks. I remained silent for the rest of the trip, trying to fathom what all the secrecy could possibly be about.

After a few more stops and violent jolts (I've decided that the Knight Bus isn't my favourite way to travel, efficient and interesting as it is), the teenage conductor stood up and announced that we had arrived in London.

Bill sat up and ushered us to the front of the bus, where Mr. Weasley was descending the stairs from the upper levels. "All right, you lot?" he asked in a hushed voice. We all nodded and followed him off the bus and onto a dingy street. With a loud bang, the Knight Bus disappeared behind us. I held on tightly to Crookshanks.

"We've got a bit of a walk, Hermione – didn't want the Knight Bus dropping us off at Headquarters' front door," said Mr. Weasley briskly, starting off down the deserted street. Houses were crammed together on either side of the road – tall, dingy-looking houses that all started to look alike after awhile.

"Headquarters?" I whispered to Ron, my interest piqued. "Headquarters of what?" Of course, I already had some idea, but I wanted to be sure.

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but behind him Bill coughed loudly, and Ron shut his mouth, looking sulky. Tonks had charmed my trunk to be extremely light, and Ron was dragging it along behind him carelessly.

We may have looked an odd bunch to any Muggles peering out their windows, but not too odd. Moody had given the put-outer to Mr. Weasley, who clicked it and captured the lights within the lampposts in any particularly well-lit areas. Finally, we came to a row of houses not unlike the others, except that there seemed to be an empty space between two of the houses, and that this area smelled even more of rotting garbage than the others. I raised my eyebrows at Ron, beginning to suspect that this was all some sort of joke.

Yes, one enormous, elaborate, carefully-planned joke. The things I think up when I'm tired, excited, and somewhat frightened are ridiculous.

"Memorize this," Mr. Weasley said, shoving a tiny piece of parchment into my hands. Intrigued, I opened it and read:

_The Headquarters of the Order of the __Phoenix__ may be found at Number __Twelve, Grimmauld Place__, __London__._

Mr. Weasley took the note, with its curiously familiar handwriting, and incinerated it with his wand. _The Headquarters of the Order of the __Phoenix__ may be found at Number __Twelve, Grimmauld Place__, __London__, I dutifully repeated to myself mentally._

Then a most peculiar thing happened. A grubby house materialized in the empty space. Then it hit me: Dumbledore's handwriting. This was Headquarters Dumbledore's secret army against You-Know-Who, and he was their Secret-Keeper.

This, of course, is all true, as I found out later. So I think my powers of deduction deserve a pat on the back. Nancy Drew would be proud. Or rather, Sherlock Holmes would, as I have sworn off poor Nancy Drew.

I then noticed Moody and Lupin waiting at the front door. I followed Ron to the door, with its ominous-looking silver doorknocker in the shape of a snake. In my experience any type of serpent = Slytherin, or You-Know-Who. Things were not looking up.

"What – " I began, but Tonks had already bounded forward and rang the doorbell.

"Tonks!" Moody roared. But even he was drowned out by a sudden wailing from within the house. I jumped, startled.

"Filthy traitors! Scum of the earth! Dirt-for-blood – "

"Sorry, sorry," Tonks apologized quickly. "I forgot."

"You forgot?!" Moody said in disbelief. Just then, the door swung open, Mrs. Weasley's face appeared (a bit thinner and paler than when I saw her last), and I was shoved into the darkened house. I only had time to register a rather unpleasant, damp, rotting smell and peeling wallpaper before someone rushed past me in the direction of the shrieking.

"Shame of my flesh, rotten fruit of my loins!" the female voice screamed. I took a step forward, curiousity getting the best of me, only to get a glimpse of Sirius Black yanking black curtains shut over the portrait of a very ugly, very sinister-looking old woman.

"Brought Hermione back, did you?" Sirius asked as the screams died away. He turned towards me grimly. "Welcome to hell, Hermione."

"Sirius!" scolded Mrs. Weasley in a hushed voice, so as not to disturb the portrait. I was quite taken aback by all this, but even more so when Mrs. Weasley abruptly pulled me into a very warm hug, the kind she usually reserved for Harry or her own children. "Oh, it's wonderful to have you, dear," she whispered. "I'm so glad you could come. Sorry to have them just show up like that, really, I was against it but Arthur and Alastor insisted…"

Meanwhile, Sirius was chastising Tonks about tapping the door with her wand instead of ringing the doorbell, saying something about how he didn't want the old hag waking up every five minutes. His face looks slightly fuller now, like he's had a few square meals. Last year he ate a lot of rats.

"Ron, take Hermione upstairs," Mrs. Weasley ordered as Mr. Weasley started speaking quietly to Professor Lupin about something that was evidently important. Ron was getting very close to the two men, trying to overhear their conversation, and jumped when Mrs. Weasley sharply called his name again. Ron gave a long-suffering sigh and grabbed my arm, yanking me towards the staircase. I followed, bewildered and beginning to suspect that Ron was a Death Eater in disguise, as he seemed to have brought me to You-Know-Who's house.

"Mum didn't want me to come with them to get you," Ron muttered fervently as we climbed the stairs. "Apparently I'm too young to go on the Knight Bus and pick up a friend, too. Honestly, she thinks I'm…"

But I stopped listening after that, because I had just seen something that made my blood run cold. I froze on the staircase and dropped Crookshanks, who darted off to explore, my mouth hanging open in horror and disgust. Ron must have guessed what I had seen, because he turned around, suddenly looking a bit panicked, and tried to drag me up the stairs again by the arm.

There, mounted on a row of plaques on the wall, were the shrunken heads of house-elves. 

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"C'mon, Hermione, I'll explain upstairs," Ron said hastily, trying to get me away from the grotesque shrunken heads. I didn't budge.

"Who – " I managed to choke out.

"This is Sirius's house," Ron explained impatiently.

"Sirius!"

"Yeah, but he didn't stick the heads on the wall, that was his great-great aunt or something."

I finally allowed him to drag me up the stairs again, but only because I was pre-occupied with the cruelty and…and…just utter revoltingness of the spectacle! It's bad enough that wizards enslave house-elves to do their bidding without proper wages or conditions, but to behead them and stick them on a wall?! It's disgusting…it's sickening…I can't even write properly, I've just gotten all furious about it again. But back on-topic…I'm horrible about going off on tangents, honestly…

On the first landing, we stopped in front of a door with a serpent's head for a doorknob. I noticed this and involuntarily shuddered, despite my pre-occupation with the house-elf heads at that time.

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed as Ron opened the door. She leapt off her bed and rushed over to hug me. Ron muttered something like, "Girls," and carelessly tossed my weightless trunk onto an empty bed in the dingy room with ease. Ginny was saying something about going crazy without another girl to talk to. I finally found my voice.

"There are heads," I said in a strangled voice. Ginny paused and smiled weakly.

"Yeah, the décor needs some work," she agreed. "We're trying."

"But apparently this place is ideal for Headquarters, so…" Ron shrugged. There was a long silence, and Ron sat on the empty bed, which was of course to be mine.

"Well?" I said, for lack of anything better to say.

Ron and Ginny exchanged looks. "This is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," Ron explained rather uselessly, as I had just memorized that.

"The resistance against You-Know-Who?" I asked. Ginny nodded. "And this is Sirius's house?" I said in disbelief.

"His parents' house, actually. Pureblood fanatics. The place is brimming with Dark stuff…but you've met Sirius's Mum, so I'm sure you're not surprised…" Ron said.

"Sirius's mother?" I said, aghast. "That portrait - ?"

"Yeah. Someone rings the bell at least three times a day, Tonks knocks something over at least twice a day, and Kreacher flings open the curtains just to spite us at least once a day, so we get to listen to her sultry voice quite a lot," Ron said wryly.

"Kreacher?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. Ron and Ginny exchanged looks again.

"The house-elf," Ron explained carefully, "but – "

"Sirius has a house-elf?!" I exclaimed, horrified. Indignation began to well up in me again as I remembered the heads.

"Yeah, but he's nutters, Hermione," Ron said quickly. "I know you like Dobby and Winky and you're all about spew and whatever, but Kreacher's – "

"Well, maybe if you would give him a chance," I interrupted loudly, "you would perhaps get along. And it's S.P.E.W."

"We have given him a chance, Hermione, it's just that – "

"Hrmph," I said, folding my arms. Ron shut his mouth and looked offended. I considered pursuing the argument, but then decided that I was too happy to see him again – even if it meant leaving my parents and staying in this strange house – to already start bickering with him.

"So what's happening?" I asked anxiously. "With You-Know-Who?"

"Well, they've only had one meeting so far, with everyone," Ginny answered.

"Mum wouldn't let us get anywhere near the meeting, though," Ron said sourly. "But Fred and George are working on that…"

They told me that they had been here for a little over a week already, and Ginny was just telling me about the horrible time they'd been having trying to decontaminate (decontaminate…I don't even want to think about what's lurking around here…) the kitchen, when we all froze at the sound of a loud, scuttling noise on the hardwood floors of the bedroom. I actually shrieked as something quite large with several legs scuttled out from under Ginny's bed. Ron turned very pale and swore, swinging his legs out of the way of the scuttling insect, which looked like a disgusting cross between a crab and a spider. Ginny leaped forward and quickly crushed it underfoot.

"Don't worry, it was just a Scrantula," Ginny said with fake cheerfulness. "Plenty of rats, too."

Well, at least Crookshanks will be happy here.

"Those things had better not be scuttling around my room," Ron said fervently, suddenly quite pale.

"Don't worry, we're starting on the bedrooms tomorrow," Ginny assured him in a patronizing, teasing voice. "We'll do yours first, if it makes you feel better."

Ron scowled at her in response. "We had to clean the kitchen first, because it's where the Order was going to hold their meetings," Ginny explained to me.

So my bedroom hasn't been cleaned for ten years, apparently. Hoo-ray.

All three of us yelped again as there was a sound like a cracking whip and the twins appeared out of thin air, nearly giving me a heart attack.

"Ah, Hermione, joined us, have you?" said Fred…or possibly George, I didn't care at that point because I was busy having a heart attack.

"So you were what Mrs. Black was screaming about," said the other twin conversationally. He screwed up his face and raised his voice to a shrill shriek. "Child of dung, staining my house – "

"Shut up!" barked Ron abruptly, standing up.

"Just a joke, just a joke," said his brother quickly. "Ah…sorry, Hermione," he said to me, and he really looked it.

Ron shook his head at them. "So how go the Extendables?" he demanded.

"Almost perfected," George said happily.

"We'll be listening to the secret meetings of the Order of the Phoenix in no time," Fred said. "Extendable Ears," he explained for my benefit, "another ingenious creation brought to you by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

I normally would have disapproved of this new invention, but it seemed quite useful, and I really am desperate for information. The Weasley's then went into a description of the members of the Order of the Phoenix…there's Dumbledore, of course, Sirius, Moody, Lupin, Tonks, and Snape, whom I know had some important business for Professor Dumbledore last year, Hagrid, who's also off on some sort of mission for Dumbledore, someone whom they referred to as 'Dung', and a whole group of others who they only mentioned briefly.

"Then there's Mum and Dad and Bill, of course, and Charlie too, but Dumbledore wants him in Romania," George finished.

I was about to ask about Percy when Mrs. Weasley stuck her head through the door, a very serious look on her face. "Come downstairs," she said in a hushed voice, "Professor Dumbledore wants a word with all of you."

"Dumbledore!" Ron exclaimed, leaping up. "When'd he get here?"

"Just now, Ron, keep your voice down…hurry now, he hasn't got all night…"

All five of us rushed downstairs after Mrs. Weasley, and I began to get excited. I thought that perhaps Professor Dumbledore had come to give us news…that he was maybe going to tell us how Harry was, and that he could come to Grimmauld Place as well. I could see that the others were excited too at the prospect of finally getting some answers. But we got just the opposite.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he said in a very calm and serious voice, nodding to me. "I trust your journey here was fine?"

Well, I only had the dickens scared out of me, almost did magic in front of Mrs. Crick, lied to my parents, was thrown about on a jerky purple bus, insulted by a portrait of Sirius's mother, and then found out that I am to be living in a house that has to be decontaminated. But of course, I didn't say this to Dumbledore. I said, "Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Forgive me for rushing things, but I am rather busy at the moment," he continued in a very business-like manner. "The reason that I wished to have a word with you all is to discuss the absolute secrecy that you must observe in order to live in this house."

I think Fred wanted to say something rude, since they seem to know nothing about what goes on in this house anyway, but he kept his mouth shut because it was Dumbledore, and I think even the twins have the utmost respect for him.

"This means," he looked at Ron and I over top of his glasses, "that you cannot breathe a word of where you are, or anything that you observe in this house…to anyone."

"But what about Harry?" I blurted out.

Dumbledore looked severe. "Especially Harry. "I will need you to take an oath of secrecy concerning this house and its goings-on, and you must promise that you will not breathe a word of what happens here to anyone outside of this house, or outside of the Order of the Phoenix. I'm afraid owl post is no longer a safe way of communication. This has to be done."

We all looked uncertain, even the normally self-confident twins. Mrs. Weasley nudged Ginny gently. "Say you swear," she whispered.

"I swear," we all repeated hesitantly. I felt a strange tingling up and down my spine, and I knew that some magical bond had just been sealed.

"Thank you," he said. "Remember that you have taken an oath. Should you feel tempted to break it, recall that something quite terrible and painful will happen to you. Have a pleasant evening."

I don't think he was serious, because his eyes twinkled, but later the twins said that you never know with Dumbledore. I think they were just trying to scare me.

Mrs. Weasley ushered us upstairs after that, and I think Dumbledore stayed to briefly talk to Mr. Weasley and Sirius, and then left. The twins went up to their bedrooms on the third landing, but Ron lingered on the first with Ginny and I.

"It really isn't fair," I whispered dejectedly. "Harry's going to go insane without any news! Why can't he come here too?"

"Don't know," Ron said thoughtfully. "Maybe we should ask Dad?" He sounded hopeful.

"Maybe he's safer at his aunt and uncle's, though," Ginny suggested.

"But they're completely horrid to him!" I exclaimed.

"I think we can still write to him, though," Ron said. "Just…we can't tell him any important stuff."

I slumped my shoulders. Of course, I understand why Professor Dumbledore has to take precautions, but…he has to have other ways of sending news besides owls. If we really wanted or had to send information to Harry, we could. I told this to Ron and Ginny.

"It isn't fair, I know," Ron said dejectedly. He yawned widely. "But Mum's gonna have us working like dogs again tomorrow, so I'm heading to bed. My room's on the second landing, if you need me," he told me.

Ginny snickered; Ron glowered at her, ears turning pink.

"Anyways, I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast," he finished hastily, and then started for the stairs.

"If you see Crookshanks, tell him where my bedroom is, please," I requested.

Ron rolled his eyes, as if the idea of talking to a cat was ridiculous or something. "Sure, Hermione," he said. But I could tell that he would let Crookshanks know if he did see him.

"Well, 'night," Ron said as Ginny opened the door and headed into our bedroom.

"Ron," I blurted out in a low voice, "I'm – I'm really glad you came to get me," I murmured, feeling heat rush to my face. Stupid blood capillaries…stupid blushing at completely random moments…

Ron smiled awkwardly. "Yeah…I'm glad I did too," he muttered. Then he quickly headed up the stairs.

For unknown reasons, Ginny started giggling behind me. I rolled my eyes, walked into our room (which is really quite empty and bare, save for a chest covered in cobwebs in the corner, one of those old-fashioned dressing tables, and the beds, of course), grabbed the moth-eaten pillow from my bed, and threw it at her. Which was probably not wise, because she refused to give my pillow back and now she's sleeping on both hers and mine.

Oh my goodness, it's nearly two a.m.! I don't know why I had to write down every little minute detail in here, every word than anyone said…but it's not like I could fall asleep, anyway. How am I supposed to sleep without a pillow?!

That, and I swear I just heard another Scrantula.


	7. Saturday, 15 July

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the lack of updates, folks…first I was on vacation, then there was that whole massive power outage thing, and then my parents refused to let me on the computer because they believed the enormous power outage that affected the entire eastern seaboard was single-handedly caused by me and all the power I waste on the computer, and my hair dryer. Well, if your hair poofed out so much that you looked like someone from Degrassi High or a similar 80's show when you didn't blow dry it, you'd knock out fifty million people's power by drying to blow dry it straight, too.

Newest member to the F.U. (Fangirls United…hehehe…thanks to Jedi Tess for the idea): spidermonkeesrkewl. And you're kewl, too.

Also, thanks to skywisej for pointing out a minor canonical problem. I'm going to make up an explanation when that problem arises. ^_^

Saturday, 15 July

_11:03 a.m.___

I've just snuck up to my bedroom for a second to write in here because, well, I found out what happened with Percy.

I woke up this morning rather late (which, of course, comes from writing in this stupid journal until two in the morning) and was surprised to find myself in a bare, grungy-looking bedroom, lying on a hard bed with no pillow, instead of in my cozy, if not horribly pink bedroom at home, lying on my nice, comfortable bed with a pillow. I panicked for a brief moment, not entirely sure of where I was in my half-awake stupor, but then I heard Mrs. Weasley two floors above me yelling at the twins to get their lazy selves out of bed, and everything came flooding back. I dressed quickly and, with directions from the twins, who had gotten their lazy selves out of bed, went down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The kitchen wasn't quite what I had expected after being told that it was the only room in the house which had been properly cleaned. I can't wait to see the condition of the rest of the rooms if this is what a 'clean' one looks like. Not that I'm complaining, but…it's this enormous room with very grimy, rough stone walls, much like in the dungeons at Hogwarts, with a very long, wooden table in the middle of the room. There's a place for cooking, of course, and a little cupboard off in the corner that I was told to stay away from, because it's where Kreacher the house-elf lives. The poor thing…everyone speaks about him so negatively! He must be so lonely, after living in a house like this for ten years all by himself, taking orders from that portrait of Sirius's mother…Sirius told me all about it at breakfast, but he seemed to find it amusing. Honestly, Sirius can be quite pig-headed at times.

I kept looking around for Kreacher all morning, hoping to meet him, but Sirius said that last he had seen him, Kreacher was upstairs trying to lure Buckbeak, whom Sirius is keeping in his mother's bedroom, out the window. I should like to go visit Buckbeak…but perhaps I'll wait until Sirius goes up there next…you know, because Buckbeak might not remember me…

Ron and Ginny were already down in the kitchen, as was Mrs. Weasley, Professor Lupin, Sirius, and Mundungus Fletcher, the man whom the twins had referred to last night as 'Dung'. I think that it's quite an offensive and rather disgusting nickname, but I have a feeling that Mundungus doesn't mind. He didn't say much to me, other than a grunt when we were introduced, and he smells suspiciously of alcohol.

Bill and Mr. Weasley were nowhere to be seen; I assume they were at work. Tonks, however, stumbled into the kitchen about halfway through breakfast, yawning wildly.

"Last time I take the night shift," she announced, plopping down at the table and looking longingly at the cup of coffee Lupin had made for himself. "Hey Remus, would you mind?"

"Not at all," replied Professor Lupin, conjuring up another mug of coffee with a flick of his wand. Tonks gratefully accepted it, muttering something about never having mastered kitchen-y type spells.

"Late night at the Ministry?" Sirius asked Tonks conversationally while Fred and George went over to quietly speak to Mundungus.

"Nah, guard duty," Tonks replied between gulps of coffee.

At this, the twins stopped talking, Ron and I perked up, and Ginny accidentally put her elbow in her porridge. "Eh, what's that, Tonks?" asked George excitedly.

Lupin gave Tonks a look, and she hurriedly insisted, "Nothing."

But the five of us (that is, the twins, Ron, Ginny and I) all exchanged meaningful looks, confident that a valuable piece of information had just slipped. Tonks refused to say more about this mysterious 'guard duty', however. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley had not overheard the entire exchange, as she had been busy trying to coax a curious Crookshanks away from Kreacher's little bedroom.

The rest of breakfast passed uneventfully, except for when I started bombarding Tonks with questions about her Metamorphmagus gifts again. She actually did a little demonstration for us, which was fascinating…all she does is screw up her face and concentrate, and she can change her hair colour, eye colour, the shape of her nose – she started doing all these different bizarre noses, it was really funny – even her entire appearance, if she concentrates hard enough. I really wish you could learn how to become a Metamorphmagus; it'd be a really useful talent. I wonder if they're like Animagi, and they have to register…I should look it up…

Anyway, back to Percy…we had just finished breakfast, and Ginny and I were helping Mrs. Weasley clean up. Sirius had left to feed Buckbeak, but Professor Lupin was still at the table, reading the _Daily Prophet and occasionally shaking his head. The three boys, as well as Mundungus, had gone off to probably do something that Mrs. Weasley would not approve of. We finished doing the dishes and wiping down the table, and then Ginny excused herself and Mrs. Weasley went off to find Kreacher to make sure that he wasn't getting into any trouble. Lupin was still at the table, however, and I lingered in the kitchen after Ginny and her mum had left._

I cleared my throat and sat back down at the table, across from Lupin. "Erm – Professor Lupin?"

He lowered the paper and gave me a smile. "I'm not your teacher anymore, Hermione. You can call me Remus now."

But I felt strange doing that, so I decided not to call him anything at all, if I can help it.

"Um…well…I was just wondering…what did you tell my parents?" I asked curiously.

Lupin put down the _Prophet. "Well, we told them that the Weasley's were going on holiday, and that Ron really wanted you to come."_

"And they were okay with that?" I said dubiously. I mean, my parents are really good about vacations with the Weasley's and staying at Hogwarts during breaks to be with Harry and all that, but them allowing me to go away for the rest of the summer on such short notice still seemed odd.

Lupin sighed. "Well, no. But then we…explained about Ron's brother, and told them that he was having a bit of a rough time because of it. We said it would be good for him if he had one of his friends around. They seemed to soften up a bit after that."

I felt extremely confused. "Ron's brother?" I thought that perhaps the twins were giving him a hard time or something.

"Ah," said Lupin uncomfortably, "Ron hasn't…told you about Percy?"

"What about Percy?" I demanded.

Lupin shook his head. "It's really not my place…"

"Is he all right?" I asked in alarm.

"Yes, he's fine…well, to our knowledge."

Seeing that I wasn't going to get any other answers from Lupin, I asked tentatively, "Ron isn't really…having a rough time because of it though, is he?"

"Well, I believe the whole family is having a rough time of it," Lupin said grimly. "Like I said, though, it's not my place. Perhaps you'd better talk to Ron about it."

Which I did.

"Ron!" I called when I found him heading up the stairs to the bedrooms. He turned around expectantly, and I noticed that the twins and Mundungus were with him.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" I asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. The twins and Mundungus did not budge.

"Er…in private_?" I muttered._

Fred and George snickered loudly, and Ron's ears turned red. "C'mon, in here," he muttered, jogging up a few more steps and nodding towards the bedroom that he and Bill share, when Bill stays at Headquarters. This only made the twins snicker even louder. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at them or do something similarly childish, and followed Ron into his room.

"Ron," I said carefully, once he had shut the door, "where's Percy?"

Ron's face immediately darkened. I wish now that I had gone about it more…delicately. But I had no idea.

"Oh," said Ron darkly, "_that._"

"What happened?" I asked softly.

"Oh, he just became an idiotic git, that's all," Ron spat, plopping down on his bed. "He had a row with Dad, just before we came here and I sent you that letter. He was promoted_."_

"Promoted?" I said in surprise. "But…after Mr. Crouch…"

"Well, you know what Fudge's game is, don't you?" Ron said in an uncharacteristically bitter and nasty tone. "He knows Dad's good friends with Dumbledore, and Dumbledore's as good as dirt to the Ministry now, 'cause of all the trouble he's causing telling the truth about You-Know-Who. Fudge just wants Percy on his side. Either that, or he wanted a spy in the family."

"Percy didn't – "

"Oh yes, he did. He's now Junior Assistant to the – " he used an adjective that was quite rude, but not necessarily undeserved, to describe Fudge, " – Minister for Magic. And when we weren't exactly pleased with Percy, and tried to tell him that that censored Fudge just wanted to use him, he got into a blazing row with Dad, packed up, and left, the censored."

I'm in complete shock. I mean, I knew that Percy is extremely ambitious, and that climbing the ladder in the Ministry means a lot to him…but to walk out on his own family…

I've always gotten along quite well with Percy, possibly better than even Ron, and although he could sometimes be…well, somewhat pompous…I would have never imagined that he would do this. And how could he be so blind?! Ron said that Percy completely supports the Minister, and that he thinks that everything about You-Know-Who being back is rubbish, just like Fudge. But the most surprising part is that Percy - who always looked up to and respected, even adored, Dumbledore - snubbed Dumbledore just like everyone else at the Ministry. Percy was rude to Dumbledore. And he said loads of terrible things to Mr. Weasley…I don't even want to write it out…I can't believe Percy's been taking the word of the _Daily Prophet_ over Harry's…

"Don't mention anything about him near Mum, though," Ron warned. "She'll start crying again…"

Poor Mrs. Weasley.

_11:57 p.m._

I'm completely and utterly exhausted…and yet I'm writing in my journal. Have I completely lost my mind and/or common sense?

So after the disturbing revelation about Percy (I spoke to Ginny and the twins about him later as well…Ginny seemed hurt more than anything else, but the twins used some angry choice words to describe Percy, and their vocabulary is even more colourful than Ron's) we had some lunch, and then all trooped up to Ron and Bill's room, arms laden with mops and brooms and every other cleaning device known to Muggles, and some cleaning devices that I'm sure are not known to Muggles (Mr. Scrub's All-Purpose Dust Remover, for instance, which sucks up all the dust in a place). Sirius joined us too, but he seemed less than enthusiastic about the job, and spent all his time trying to pry screaming portraits and photographs of his relatives off the shelves and the walls. He left one blank portrait, however, vaguely saying something about it not being a big deal.

Ron and I got stuck cleaning out the closet, and it was extremely difficult work because we could only use one hand at a time, as our other hands were busy pinching our noses. The smell in that closet was awful, and we later discovered that this was because there were several dead Puffskeins in there. This did not seem to bother Ron as much as one live Scrantula had.

"Well?" I whispered to Ron in a nasally voice, pinching my nose even harder as I threw another dead Puffskein into a bag in disgust.

"Well what?" Ron said in exasperation, sneezing as a cloud of dust rose from the box he had just brushed off. He reached for Mr. Scub's. "You'll have to stop assuming that I can read your mind, and be more specific when you ask me questions," he said irritably.

"Well, are you okay about Percy?" I asked quietly, unperturbed by his tone.

Ron stopped what he was doing and stared at me. "Well I'm obviously not okay with it…"

"That's not what I meant."

He turned a bit red and shoved his head into the closet again. "Yeah," came his muffled voice, "I'm fine. I mean, my own brother practically disowned our family, but it's only going to make it easier to live with him when he finds out that he's horribly mistaken and comes humbly crawling back to us," he said with false cheerfulness.

I smiled at him when he emerged from the closet again. "Good. That's the right attitude," I said approvingly. Ron blushed again and shrugged, smiling a bit.

"Do you think I can borrow Pig later?" I asked as we set about working again, trying to wipe inches of dust off the closet floor. "I need to write to my parents and everything. Leaving out the parts about Headquarters, of course," I said loudly, so that Mrs. Weasley would hear me. Just so she knows that I won't break my promise to Dumbledore.

"Sure," was Ron's reply. But then he suddenly got a very odd look on his face. "But uh…remember Pig's just a runt…he's not really up to long journeys, if you know what I mean…you know, like…to other countries or anything…"

What a complete prat. Ron somehow always manages to ruin any moments in which I start to think that maybe he's not so bad, after all. I will write to Viktor if I want to. What's his problem, anyhow?  He must be worried that I'll go off to Bulgaria and marry Viktor, and then he'll have no one to copy his homework from.

However, I said none of this, only made a dignified, "Hrmph," sound and moved on to the task of pulling out very dark old robes from the closet. "I'll write to whomever I want to, thank you very much."

"And first I'd ask Dad about owling strange people, too. Dumbledore might not like that," he retorted. "But you can't tonight, because he said something about having guard duty again…whatever that's about…what d'you reckon?" he asked, lowering his voice and casting a look backwards to see if his mum was listening.

I forgot my annoyance with him for a second. "Perhaps they're guarding Headquarters?" I suggested as Fred and George swept towards us, pretending to help us with the musty old robes.

"Nah, the place is Unplottable, and Sirius's dad put all kinds of spells on here to hide it," George said, shaking his head.

"Maybe they're guarding – " but Fred quickly broke off, as Mrs. Weasley walked over to see if we had made any progress. When she turned her back to Fred, however, I noticed that he swiftly pocketed one of the dead Puffskeins. Which is absolutely disgusting. I don't even want to know what he's going to do with it.

And that was when the door opened, and a tiny old house-elf wearing the filthiest and shabbiest loincloth I've ever seen sidled into the room, enormous eyes darting about fearfully.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, and everyone turned around to stare at him. He immediately flattened himself to the floor before Sirius.

"Oh, go away, Kreacher," Sirius scowled, "there's nothing worthwhile in here."

"Oh no, Master, Kreacher is only coming to help," said the house-elf in a wheezy voice. He then muttered something else under his breath, but I couldn't make it out.

"Hello, Kreacher! I'm Hermione Granger, it's nice to meet you," I said brightly, standing up and looking at him pityingly. He's frightfully old and feeble, and his eyes kept darting about as if afraid that someone was going to hurt him. He stared at me, shaking with fear, I presume, and then muttered something fervently…I don't know, he may have used the 'M' word, but that's not his fault at all…and then he dashed from the room.

But the way he looked at me, as if frightened that all wizards and witches are out to hurt him! If I find out that Sirius has laid a finger on him, I am going to be so incredibly angry! I can't believe that Sirius, of all people, has a house-elf! After all he's been through in Azkaban, you'd think that he would know something about imprisonment! And I can't believe that he allows poor Kreacher to wear that filthy rag and doesn't bother replacing it! And that he makes him bow down to him like that!

Sirius kept talking about Kreacher in such a nasty way after that…the poor thing is just misunderstood. He probably doesn't mean half the things he says…he can't help it if Sirius's parents shaped him to be that way! Everyone else keeps saying that Kreacher's strange and mad and whatnot…but they're just ignorant. I'm sure that he'll warm up to us eventually, if we treat him right.

Oh, and I did write to Mum and Dad, just to let them know that I'm all right and that I'm enjoying myself (well, it's not entirely a lie…it's nice to be back with wizards and witches, and to be with Ron – even though he's a prat – and Ginny). I've also written to Viktor, just to spite Ron…except I left out that whole part about how I'm spending the rest of my summer with Ron.

I have to write to Harry soon, as well. But I haven't the faintest clue what to say to him. _Hi Harry, Ron and I are together in an undisclosed location, and we can't tell you anything about anything because we were sworn to secrecy. Hope you have a nice summer.?_

Poor Harry.


	8. Monday, 17 July

**Author's Notes:** Let's give a big round of applause for the newest members of the F.U.: Twilight's Dawn and Daggerquill! Wow, we have to have an F.U. pledge or something…

Fangirls(boys) united,

Your job is to review!

Proudly spread the word around,

And shout to folks, "F.U.!"

And finally, the answer to the question you've all been asking: How much does this barking mad chick Fanciful Sovereign love me? Answer: A whole damn lot! ^_^

Monday, 17 July

_11:09 p.m.___

They had another meeting today! And (I never thought I'd be saying this) thanks to Fred and George, we now have some inkling as to what's going on. We also almost got caught and would have been punished severely by Mrs. Weasley, but I'm willing to overlook that in the light of the new information we gained.

Yesterday was quite uneventful; we spent the entire day finishing our "decontamination" of Ron's room, and we had just barely started my room before we all decided we were too tired to continue, and went to bed. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep straight away and didn't even have time to write in here. Not that anything that was worth writing down happened yesterday…but it's become somewhat of a stress reliever to write things down in here…to my chagrin, of course, but at least Mrs. Crick will never know.

I suppose I should start at breakfast today, because things happened then that are worth mentioning. I'd forgiven Ron for his stupid comment about Viktor on Saturday, and we were sitting together at the breakfast table trying to write a letter to Harry that Mr. Weasley would approve of. So far, our first three drafts (one of which referred to "an Order", and another which gave him the hint that we're staying in a "grim old place") had been canned, and the fourth was just sounding plain stupid. We finally sent a letter off that went something like: _We've been told not to say anything important in case our letters go astray, so we can't say anything about you-know-what, obviously. But we'll tell you everything when we see you…_

Harry's going to hate us.

Anyway, Bill was there this morning, reading the _Daily Prophet _and shaking his head. "Listen to this rubbish! They've demoted Dumbledore from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot!"

There was a sharp intake of breath all around the table. "When did that happen?" Sirius demanded.

"Just yesterday, it seems. It says that 'Other members of the Wizengamot made the decision based on Dumbledore's increasing age and his recent eccentric ramblings.'"

"Eccentric ramblings," said Mrs. Weasley softly and sadly. "Arthur, have you heard about this?"

"No, but I'm sure it will be a hot topic at work today," said Mr. Weasley bitterly, rising from the table. "Speaking of which, I should be off…have a good day, everyone."

He Disapparated, and Bill crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash.

"And good riddance!" Mrs. Weasley said approvingly. "In the trash, where it belongs. I absolutely refuse to read that rubbish from now on."

At this, Fred and George exchanged gleeful looks and then excused themselves from the table, rushing upstairs. Ron caught my eye and grinned. I'm not sure if I even want to know what they're up to.

We spent the remainder of the day cleaning my bedroom. Mrs. Weasley popped in now and then to help or to yell at the twins for taking "well-deserved" breaks every five minutes, but she seemed oddly pre-occupied and flustered. Ginny and I spent most of the time cleaning out the cobweb-covered chest in the corner, which had a variety of strange and unusual objects in it. Sirius had to come up to identify a mysterious black box that no one wanted to touch, and we heard him swear loudly after he had left the room with it. Ron thinks that it tried to bite him.

I became much more wary about objects in this house after I found a silver figurine of a wizard crouching over a blue stone in the chest. I started staring at the stone, and I couldn't stop…it was the queerest feeling, like I was entranced. Ginny told me later that my eyes went all glazed and that I started moving closer and closer to the figurine in my hand, but I just remember wanting to get a better look. Then Ron noticed and mercifully snatched the thing out of my hand before I did anything foolish. We threw it into the bag of things that we wanted to throw away, but I think that Kreacher took it when we weren't looking. He kept tip-toeing in and trying to salvage things from the bag. The poor thing; he doesn't know that they're dangerous, he just wants to save what's left of the family he used to serve. Sirius's parents must have completely turned his head when they were alive.

At about five o'clock, when we usually have tea, the doorbell rang and Mrs. Black went wild. By then only the five of us were left in the bedroom, and we all exchanged looks and then ran out onto the landing.

"Wait," muttered George, holding us back with his arm as people filed into the hall. I recognized Tonks, Moody, and Professor Lupin, but anyone else I could see was unfamiliar.  
"They must be having a meeting!" Ginny whispered.  
"Quick, George, the Extendables," Fred said hastily. George dug into his pockets and emerged with several pieces of what looked like skin-coloured yarn – the Extendable Ears.

"These aren't…dangerous, are they?" I asked warily as he passed them out to everyone.

"Well, we haven't tested them yet, so you never know," whispered Fred cheerfully. He instructed us to place them in our own ears, which we cautiously did, and then we dropped them. The Extendable Ears hung over the landing, descending to dangle over the heads of the people in the hall.

" – never mind, Black," hissed a familiar-sounding voice. Ron and I risked peering over the railing.

"Snape!" Ron hissed in surprise. There was Professor Snape, smirking at a furious-looking Sirius. Ginny elbowed Ron to be quiet, so that we could hear what Sirius said back.

"Hey Snivellus, why don't you – " But we never got to hear what Sirius wanted Snape to do, because they then moved out of Extendable Earshot, and the rest of the group disappeared around a corner. Fred motioned for us to follow him down the stairs. We tried to move as quietly as possible through the front hall, which was now empty, and hurried over to the stairs that led to the basement kitchen. We stationed ourselves at the top of the basement stairs, and George nodded for us to let the Extendables go again. The stringy things wriggled down the stairs and out of sight, presumably slipping under the door to the kitchen .

" – to give us a brief report. Arabella?"

"That was Dad," murmured Ginny.

"So far, I haven't seen anything suspicious around Magnolia Crescent, or the boy," said an elderly female voice. "I think its best that we keep someone watching him at all times. But from what it looks like, if anyone's going to try and kill him, it won't be You-Know-Who, it'll be his uncle."

There were a few scattered chuckles, then a disapproving noise that was probably made by Mrs. Weasley, and then the sounds of a chair scraping against the floor as Arabella sat down.

"She was talking about Harry!" I whispered. I suddenly felt a huge wave of relief wash over me. Harry's being watched by members of the Order. He's fine, and nothing bad can happen to him if they're always around. I sighed in relief out loud, and George put his finger to his lips, nodding towards the stairs.

" – I believe. Our newest members, Tonks and Kingsley, are proof that some people can still be convinced of the truth. As Aurors, Tonks and Kingsley are very useful sources within the Ministry. They're risking their jobs and their reputations by being here tonight, and by being members of this Order. We have to continue our recruitment efforts, and can't be discouraged…no matter what the cost."

"Dad again. He must be talking about them demoting Dumbledore on the Wizengamot," George said in a low voice.

And then Ron sneezed. Loudly.

The voices downstairs abruptly died away. We all exchanged apprehensive looks.

"Run," was all Fred said. He and George Disapparated, leaving Ron, Ginny and I to hoist up the Extendable Ears and run like mad for our bedroom. Panting, we took the stairs two at a time and practically flung ourselves into Ginny's and my room. Ginny and I buried our heads in the chest again, breathing hard, and Ron stuck his head into the closet, trying to look as if he had been cleaning it for hours. So when we heard the tell-tale sounds of Mrs. Weasley coming up the stairs and throwing open the door to our room, we knew that she couldn't see our flushed faces. Mrs. Weasley stood at the door for a few seconds in silence, evidently surprised to find us cleaning my bedroom and not hiding someplace after eavesdropping in on the meeting.

"…Where are Fred and George?" she finally asked suspiciously. As if on cue, Fred and George walked in, both carrying bottles of black liquid.

"Oh, hi Mum," said Fred innocently, crossing over to Ron and handing him a bottle. "Just ran off to get some bottles of Doxy repellent, Ron's found some in the closet."

Feeling my flushed cheeks cooling, I took my head out of the chest and chanced a look at Mrs. Weasley. She was standing at the door with her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"If I find out," she said in a deathly voice, "that you lot are sneaking around, trying to eavesdrop on the Order's business, you will be very, very sorry indeed." She then glanced at me, and I quickly tried to look busy. "Except for you, Hermione, dear," she added pleasantly, "I know you're a good girl, these four are just a bad influence."

I blushed, feeling spectacularly guilty. Mrs. Weasley spun on her heel and left the room, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she had left, the twins and Ginny rushed over to the door, pressing their ears against it.

"She's gone," Ginny announced.

"Thanks a whole lot, Ron," George said in a long-suffering voice.

"I had to sneeze!" Ron exclaimed defensively. "You try dusting the closet!"

"Damn, and they were just getting to the good parts!" Fred said dejectedly, sitting on Bill's bed.

"They're having trouble recruiting people!" Ron exclaimed bitterly. "What about us, eh? They've got five people who'd sign up in a heartbeat, and Mum won't let us join."

"But at least now we know that Harry's being watched," I pointed out, relieved. "So he'll be okay."

"Yeah," agreed Ron, "but I reckon Harry won't like that very much, will he?"

"Well, it's for his own good," I said.

"And who's this Arabella character?" George mused. "Haven't seen her around, have we?"

"Isn't she that old lady…the one with the carpet slippers?" Ginny asked, grinning.

"Yeah, maybe," Fred said, shrugging.

We spent the rest of the day discussing what else the Order might be up to, and wondering where they're trying to find new recruits. Ron thought that perhaps that's where Dumbledore sent Hagrid and Madame Maxime – to find giants that wanted to be part of the Order. But the rest of us pointed out that it's more likely that Hagrid's just trying to get on their good side before You-Know-Who does.

We didn't dare leave our bedroom until Mrs. Weasley came up to get us for tea a few hours later, and by then almost everyone had left. A few people stayed to eat with us, however – Tonks, Mundungus, and Professor Lupin, as well as the Auror Mr. Weasley had been talking about, Kingsley (who, ironically, is the head of the search for Sirius, and was sitting right next to him at the table), and a young, sort of pretty black-haired witch named Hestia. Ron got all flustered and turned red when she asked him to pass the potatoes. Honestly…

Snape didn't stay, thankfully. I know he's on our side and all, but I still can't forgive him for all the nasty things he's said to me and Ron and Harry and Neville, no matter what he does for the Order.

An hour ago, Ginny fell asleep talking about all the members of the Order that I hadn't met yet – Elphias Doge, who used to own an Apothecary; Emmeline Vance, who reminds Ginny vividly of Professor McGonagall; Manion DuGrey, who lost a thumb in a duel with a Death Eater; that Hestia woman, whom Ginny also speculates Ron secretly fancies, despite the fact that she's nearly ten years older than him, the idiot; Dedalus Diggle, a 'funny little wizard'; Professor Dumbledore's brother Aberforth, who is evidently very strange; Barty Hallaway, a Muggle-born like me…

Eventually Ginny fell asleep in the midst of telling a story about Barty Hallaway, and since I was wide awake, I grabbed my journal. It's nearly midnight now, though, and tomorrow I'm going to try and talk to Kreacher again…I'm sure he'll warm up to me if I keep trying. And we want to try out the Extendable Ears again…perhaps when Sirius and Ron's parents are alone together, because every time we catch the three of them talking, Mrs. Weasley jumps and changes the subject, so they have to be discussing something good.

I can't believe that I'm actually participating in schemes that have been planned by the Weasley twins. I've lost my mind.

Oh, right, I almost forgot…

  
  


Weekly Goals

1. Resume summer revision, moving on to Potions review. Living in secret Headquarters of Dumbledore's resistance against You-Know-Who is no excuse to stop revising.

2. Continue attempts to befriend Kreacher. Consider bombarding Sirius with accusations of cruelty towards house-elves until he gets him something new to wear and a few square meals.

3. Visit Buckbeak. Preferably not alone. Take Ron with me?

4. Attempt to convince Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to allow Harry to come to Grimmauld Place. Be pleasant yet persuasive. Do not resort to yelling and/or crying.

5. Find out what else is going on within Order of the Phoenix. Willing to sacrifice dignity and use resources provided by Weasley twins.


	9. Friday, 21 July

**Author's Notes: **Where art thou, summer? Why have you forsaken me? Only two more weeks until school (my heart goes out to those of you in the U.S. who already had to return to that horrid establishment known as your school), and we're still in July in this story. Yikes.

Special thanks to Starbucks. I could not have written this chapter without you. ^_^

Friday, 21 July

_4:27 p.m.___

I haven't had much time (or, quite frankly, much energy) to write in here for the past few days – Mrs. Weasley keeps us busy with our "decontamination" efforts (we've finished Ginny's and my room, as well as the twins' and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's), and the Order keeps us busy by having secretive meetings that we are obligated to listen in on. Thus far, we haven't gleaned much else from our eavesdropping, however.

They've only held one other meeting with almost everyone present (except, again, Dumbledore), but the adults of Grimmauld place – Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and Lupin – have had several little unofficial meetings in the kitchen which we've managed to eavesdrop upon. The only good piece of information we picked up, though, was that a few members have been keeping a close eye on the Death Eaters Harry mentioned last year. Thank goodness someone took him seriously.

I really, really hope they catch Malfoy's father doing something rotten first.

We also overheard them talking about Dumbledore having trouble finding a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Not surprising, as they have a tendency to end up either dead, Obliviated, or soulless. Also, all the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers we've ever had (with the notable exception of Lupin) have tried to in some way harm Harry and/or Ron. I'm almost hoping the Dumbledore will finally give the position to Snape – he's horrible, but at least we'll know what to expect. Although then we run the risk of getting a homicidal maniac for a Potions Master to replace Snape. We just can't win.

I've also been wary about writing in here because I realized how much potentially harmful information I've written about: the location of Headquarters, the actions of the Order…finally, I got downright paranoid, so I swallowed my pride and discreetly showed this book to Tonks.

"If someone were to say…write some things in this book that would, say…incriminate certain people or groups…" I began cautiously, "is there any way that, say…someone else could possibly break the magic surrounding the book which allows only myself - I mean, the individual who writes in it - to read said incriminating information?"

Tonks flipped the book over in her hands, opened it, rifled through some pages of invisible writing, and then took out her wand. She tapped it once and waited while I fidgeted next to her. She tapped it again and muttered something. Then she handed me back the book, grinning. "Don't worry," she said with a wink. "Ron and Ginny won't be able to read your diary."

As if that's what I was worried about! Besides, Ginny's seen me writing in here loads of times already, but so far she hasn't said anything about it, and I doubt she would try to read it. I indignantly informed Tonks that it is a journal and then strode off.

I do like Tonks, though. I've never met a full-fledged witch who's close to my age before. She's really nice to Ginny and I, and it's quite nice to have another girl around sometimes.

Tonks has been showing up more and more, and Bill less and less. Personally, I think Bill's job is to get on good terms with the goblins, sort of like what I think Hagrid's been sent to do with the giants. Bill's well-placed to do so, since he's working at Gringotts and all. When I voiced this opinion to the others, however, Fred grinned and said that Bill's just not around because Fleur Delacour got a job at Gringotts recently.

Oh, please.

When Fred told us this, I carefully watched Ron for his reaction. But he seemed nonplussed and continued prying a hoard of screeching Vermila off the headboard of George's bed.

In fact…after about a week here I started noticing that Ron is ever so slightly…different than he was last year. Oh, he's still infuriating at times, and completely oblivious to certain things…but slightly less so. Perhaps You-Know-Who's return has changed him, or maybe it's living at Headquarters, or it could even be that he's really worried about Harry, like me, so he's too pre-occupied to be annoying. But he seems more…I don't know…mature, perhaps? The only prattish comment he's made all week was the roundabout one about owling Viktor, and the two of us have yet to get into a row. Maybe he's just thankful that I'm here to share in the unpleasantness of Grimmauld Place, and he doesn't want me to get angry with him and leave or something. Or perhaps…dare I write it?...Ron's finally growing up. Well, at fifteen years of age, it's about time, so bravo for him.

Ginny, too, is subtly different, perhaps because she finally gave up on Harry and found herself a boyfriend who fancies her back. I mean, she's always been a bit mischievous and stubborn – she's the twins' number one co-conspirator around here – but now she seems even more so. Plus, she's finally outgrown the shyness she used to have around people she didn't know. And she seems a bit less…giggly. Well, except for last night, when we stayed up giggling about the upstairs toilet, which was extremely irritable yesterday and decided to completely drench Ron in water when he walked into the bathroom.

As for the twins, they haven't changed an iota, save for their new disgust with Percy and a few isolated, surprising actions on their parts. Ron told me that they bought him new dress robes for unexplained reasons, and that the robes didn't shrink when he tried them on or try to strangle him or anything. They also offered to pay for new school robes for Ginny, supposedly as repayment for doing the twins' dirty work all summer. But I truly think that they did it out of the goodness of their hearts.

I don't know where they got all this money from, though, and I'm also stumped as to what they do up in their room all day. They've been acting sort of suspicious, and I've seen them pocket some rather disgusting commodities when they think no one's looking. They're most definitely up to something, but I'm not quite sure if I want to know what it is.

We barely see Mr. Weasley any more, save for at meals – if he's not working at the Ministry, he's on some secret errand for the Order (we still haven't quite figured out what "guard duty" entails). But Mrs. Weasley goes out far less often. She's usually helping us clean or cooking, but occasionally she disappears on Order business too.

I'm quite worried about Mrs. Weasley, though…she barely eats and she always seems very pale. Wednesday morning I woke up early and walked into the kitchen to see her standing alone near the stove, crying quietly into her apron. She spotted me after a few seconds and quickly blew her nose, telling me that she just had something in her eye. But I worriedly told Ron about it later, anyway. He got very red in the face and angrily started cursing Percy again. But when he was done, I caught him looking at me a tad more fondly than usual. I think he's glad that I'm looking out for his mum.

Unfortunately, I haven't…made much progress with Kreacher yet. The poor thing's so brainwashed into thinking that Muggles and Muggle-borns are bad that he…hasn't quite taken to me yet. But I'm going to keep trying! I've cornered Sirius a few times and have been on his case about Kreacher's living conditions and the way people treat him around here. Sirius just shakes his head at me whenever I go on one of my tirades.

"You can be as nice to him as you want, Hermione," he said with a sigh the other day, "but Kreacher's always going to be a dirty little stinker."

Well. Mr. Weasley told me that Dumbledore said to be nice to Kreacher too, so there.

Sirius seems glad for the company at Grimmauld Place, but I can tell that he absolutely hates being back here. Sometimes Fred and George can get a laugh out of him, and he seems slightly happier when Professor Lupin's around, but most of the time he just sulks. Seeing as he's an escaped convict and all, he can't jolly well just stroll outside and start doing things for the Order, and I think he's bitter because of it. But at least he tries to keep himself somewhat occupied by helping us clean occasionally, taking care of Buckbeak, and sometimes spending hours on end trying to yank down the wailing portrait of his mother. I think there's a Permanent Sticking Charm on it though, because it is not coming down.

So that's the week in a nutshell – cleaning, eavesdropping, and people growing up just when you've abandoned all hope of them doing so. Life at Grimmauld Place isn't really that bad. Sure, the place is infested with Doxys, Puffskeins, Scrantulas, and sulky escaped convicts, but at least I'm getting to spend the summer with Ron.

And Ginny too, of course.

The only thing that would make the summer even better (besides a change in location) would be if Harry was allowed to come here. His relatives are absolutely horrid to him and I just know he's going mad all by himself without any proper news. Harry would probably make Sirius so much happier if he was here…and I know Ron appreciates my company and all, but I also know that I'm not Harry. Ron misses him too, even if he'll never say anything like that out loud because boys just don't say that type of thing out loud.

Especially Ron, who has the emotional range of a teaspoon.


	10. Monday, 24 July

**Author's Notes: **Nine more days 'til school starts! Gah! Actually, I've written quite a few more chapters, but I'm putting them up real slow-like and triple checking all of them for canon errors. Nonetheless, I'm sure quite a few of them have canon errors.

On a lighter note…monkey! ^_^

Thanks to those of you who have written amazing little songs, whether they be F.U.-related or fic-related. Go F.U.! And congrats to new fanboy Avernger42. ^_^

Monday, 24 July

_11:44 p.m.___

Sometimes I think that because of what happened in second year, Ginny is a lot more grown up than I am in certain ways.

Every night, no matter how exhausted we are, Ginny and I usually stay up and have a little chat. Sometimes it's about completely silly things (eg. Ron's previously mentioned toilet mishap, which we giggled about for an hour); other times we have semi-serious conversations. Occasionally, Ginny talks about Michael Corner, her Ravenclaw boyfriend, but not in the silly, giggly way that Parvarti and Lavender talk about their fleeting love interests. Personally, I still think that Harry would have been better for Ginny, but Harry's almost as oblivious and stupid as Ron when it comes to these things. So I really don't blame her for giving up.

Anyway, tonight we somehow got into a discussion about You-Know-Who.

We were both lying in our respective beds in the dark, talking quietly so that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't come up and yell at us to get to sleep because we have a lot to do tomorrow and then Ginny would point out that Mrs. Weasley also has a lot to do tomorrow and she's still awake and Mrs. Weasley would slam the door. This has happened several times.

Ginny had stopped talking and had been silent for awhile, so I assumed that she had fallen asleep. I had just made up my mind to quietly crawl out of bed and grab my journal (because I'd nearly forgotten my weekly goals) when Ginny spoke up.

"What do you think he wants, Hermione?" she asked quietly.

I lay back down, journal forgotten. "Who?"

"You-Know-Who."

I got a chill, and then pondered this very seriously for a moment before replying, "Power, I suppose."

Ginny was silent for a moment. Then, "But why?"

"The same reason everyone else wants power, I guess," I replied pensively. "It's human nature."

Ginny was quiet again for a few seconds. Then she said, in a chillingly cold voice, "I don't think he is human, Hermione."

Ginny's sheets rustled as she turned on her side, facing me. I could make out the whites of her eyes in the semi-darkness. "Why did he kill all those people last time? Why did he kill all those Muggles? It was pointless, power wise. I think he did it for fun, not power."

I felt sick, and I was glad Ginny couldn't see my face in the dark. I shivered involuntarily, even though it's always stiflingly warm and stuffy in Grimmauld Place. I thought again about my parents, about all the revolting things I've read about You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters, about what he's done to Harry…and Ginny…

"Oh, Ginny," I whispered shakily, "he's just an evil, evil…thing…"

Ginny's eyes met mine, and then she looked away. "I'm sorry I brought it up," she said quickly. "It's just…I had to talk to someone about it – "

"I know."

"Dad says they're loads better prepared this time…"

"I know," I repeated. It was silent in the room again, but this time I knew Ginny hadn't fallen asleep. I was wide awake by then, and I suddenly thought of Harry and got very cold all over.

"Ginny?" I whispered, sitting up in bed.

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid for Harry," I blurted out in the barest of whispers. "I think that's one of the things he really wants."

I was shaking like mad now, and like the baby I am, I was on the verge of tears. Because I'd finally said what I'd secretly been fearing since Harry came back holding the Triwizard Cup and Cedric's body: Harry dead, Ron dead, Ginny and her parents dead, real Death Eaters on Arbour Court…

By then I was crying quietly. Ginny crawled out of bed and came over to give me a hug. I thought it was odd that Ginny, the younger one, was comforting me. "Dumbledore won't let that happen," she said firmly.

Dumbledore dead too, and no one to protect us…

I hugged Ginny back and apologized for behaving like a baby and Ginny said it was her fault for bringing it up. We hugged again and Ginny went back to her bed.

But really, I think I'm glad she brought it up, because I had to get that out. I had to tell someone how frightened I really am. I finally said out loud what I think everyone's been secretly afraid of, and I feel so much better now.

Mrs. Crick would be proud. I think I'm finally on the road to emotional satisfaction.

Weekly Goals

1. Enlist Ron to aid in campaign to get Harry to come to Grimmauld Place.

2. Continue attempts to befriend Kreacher. Possibly begin anew by presenting him with gifts of new clothing? Look into learning how to knit and/or sew.

3. Begin Arithmancy revision.

4. Continue on road to emotional satisfaction.


	11. Wednesday, 26 July

**Author's Notes: **Since this chapter's rather short, I think I might just have a two for one deal today…two chapters for the price of one! And this has to be my favourite chapter so far…heh, heh, heh…^_~

Thanks for the plentiful reviews…those of you F.U.'ers who can't always review, do not fret! I am not a review Nazi! I'm okay with non-reviewingness due to the pressures of real life! So fear not, friends. The F.U. will always be there.

Special thanks to Ashii Black, who's F.U. songs are inspirations. To view these song wonders, see the reviews of this story.

Wednesday, 26 July

_7:12 p.m._

With Monday's Weekly Goal #1 in mind, the second Ron and I were alone, I asked him for help.

We had moved on to Sirius's mother's old room, possibly the most disgusting and dangerous room in the house. Adding to this was Buckbeak, who was quite harmlessly munching on bones in the corner – but still, it was slightly unnerving to have to kneel and make eye contact and all every time we walked into the room.

A little bit after lunch, the five of us were toiling away when the doorbell rang, followed by the cacophony of people rushing about, Mrs. Black screaming, and Sirius yelling not to ring the doorbell began. The twins and Ginny exchanged meaningful looks, and then dropped their cleaning devices and stealthily slid out of the room to see who had arrived. I poked Ron with the broom I was holding once Ginny had closed the door behind her.

"I'm worried about Harry," I said very fast. Ron immediately stopped trying to pry a framed photograph of a cursing Mr. Black off a shelf.

"Me too," he said, turning to face me. And he looked it, too. His face was paler than usual, and I don't think he's been sleeping well. Today there were bags under his eyes.

"Ron, he's going to do something stupid, I know it," I said fervently. "Stuck at his relatives with no news and no one to talk to…and our stupid letters can't be helping…"

Ron paused and looked worried. "I know…but Dumbledore said…"

Hell has officially frozen over, for today was the day that I was pushing to break rules and Ron Weasley was reminding me to heed the words of the authoritative figure.

But he did have a point.

I made a frustrated sound and sat on Mrs. Black's bed. Then I quickly stood up, because I had sat on a bone Buckbeak had spit out. "Well, I was thinking that maybe we can talk to your dad…maybe he'll let Harry come here like I did. Then we won't have to break our word to Dumbledore, Harry will be right here!"

Ron brightened. "Yeah, Dad's really fond of Harry…and I mean, Sirius won't have any qualms about it, obviously!" He beamed at me. "Brilliant, Hermione, we'll talk to Dad."

I think I may have blushed or something. Really, Hermione.

But when we found him later that day, Mr. Weasley wasn't as enthusiastic as we had hoped. "Now I know you two want to see Harry," he said sympathetically when he returned from work and we accosted him. "But he really is safer where he is. Dumbledore wants him there for good reason."

Even Sirius, who is the only person that possibly wants to see Harry more than Ron and I do, nodded grimly in agreement.

"But Dad – " Ron began.

"You'll see him soon enough," Mr. Weasley tried to say encouragingly. Our shoulders slumped, and Mr. Weasley frowned. "And in the meantime, don't be forgetting your promise to Dumbledore. You swore, remember?"

"Yes," we both said flatly. Mr. Weasley smiled and left to go hang up his coat and greet his wife.

"See him soon enough," Ron muttered furiously. "Like in a month. Wouldn't Grimmauld Place be the safest place for him? I don't get it."

"Neither do I," I confessed as we headed down to the kitchen. It was empty, save for Crookshanks, who I scooped into my lap as we sat down across from each other at the long table.

"Well, we'll just have to get him a really wicked birthday present," Ron decided firmly.

I smiled at him. Then he did something rather unexpected – Ron smiled back, and sort of patted my hand awkwardly. Then he turned red and was suddenly very busy scrounging for food on the other end of the kitchen.

And I sort of…felt that…jump…in my stomach. But never mind, it's stupid. It is a waste of time to discuss any unfortunate, slightly non-platonic feelings that I may or may not have for a certain someone that I may or may not be best friends with who has red hair and a nice smile.

…

Really, this nonsense has got to stop. Curse whoever's brilliant idea it was to allow hormones to interfere with better judgement between the ages of thirteen and nineteen.

Revisions to Weekly Goals

4. Do not dwell upon trivial, hormone-induced, non-platonic feelings. Then continue on road to emotional satisfaction.

5. Find really good birthday present for Harry.


	12. Monday, 31 July

**Author's Notes: **I love Fred and George.

Don't forget to tell your friends about The Sorceress Diaries – why buy a mattress anywhere else?

Monday, 31 July

_5:57 p.m._

I told them to be more careful! I just knew that they were going to get themselves into trouble eventually! But did anyone listen to me? Did anyone care to think that, oh, perhaps Hermione might be right? No! You'd think the twins would have learned their lesson yesterday after they and Ginny nearly got caught with the Extendables by Lupin when they were lurking outside the kitchen. But no, they had to go and risk it again today. Now they've gone and gotten themselves in trouble, the great idiots – well, serves them right for being so careless! It's not that I care that Fred and George got into trouble, it's just that we can't risk the Extendable Ears anymore and it's all their fault!!!

Perhaps I should backtrack.

Ron and I were playing chess with the marble chess set we found Saturday (although I think I'd prefer to play with his set, because I'm fairly sure the marble one belonged to Mr. Black, and occasionally the King and Queen insult me when I make a wrong move. I keep thinking that any second my pawns are going to turn around and start attacking me with a cry of, "Kill the Mudblood!") in his room this morning. Ginny had gone on a quest to find Crookshanks. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Sirius, had gone off to the drawing room after breakfast to have another one of their private talks about Order business. Of course, the twins rushed up to their bedroom to haul out the Extendables immediately after their parents and Sirius left the kitchen.

"You lot coming?" George asked hastily when we met them on the stairs.

"Perhaps we should give the Extendables a rest for awhile," I said sensibly. "You were nearly caught yesterday, and I think your mum's beginning to suspect something."

Fred turned to Ron and Ginny. "You lot coming?" he asked. I rolled my eyes and stomped up the stairs.

Wisely, Ron and Ginny declined, and ten minutes later, just when Ron was about to take my knight – 

"FREDERICK ARTHUR WEASLEY!"

Ron and I froze. He winced, and I sighed and waited for the inevitable.

"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, LURKING ABOUT OUTSIDE THE DOOR AND – WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THAT?!"

"Run, Fred, run," Ron urged under his breath. Mrs. Black had awoken due to all the yelling and was now adding her own screams and wails to the noise.

Fred's reply was unintelligible. But Mrs. Weasley's voice raised a few decibels more, if that was possible. "WHAT DID I SAY, YOUNG MAN?! IF I CAUGHT YOU EAVESDROPPING ON ORDER BUSINESS AGAIN, I SAID THAT – GEORGE, FREEZE!"

"Damn," Ron muttered. "Thought he'd get away, at least."

"AND WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING, MISTER?! BOTH OF YOU, COME HERE! I AM ABSOLUTELY ASHAMED AND DISGUSTED AT THE BOTH OF YOU – "

One of the twins said something in an indignant voice.

"NO! I HAVE SAID IT ONCE, I HAVE SAID IT TWICE, YOU ARE TOO YOUNG TO JOIN THE ORDER! WAIT UNTIL I GET YOUR FATHER OUT HERE! ARTHUR! ARTHUR!"

There was the sound of a door slamming, and then more angry voices. Ron groaned and fell backwards onto his bed, which we were both sitting on. The chess set bounced a bit, and Ron's bishops both yelled at him.

"Shall I say I told them so?" I asked, folding my arms. "I hope they had the good sense to at least hide the Extendables, or to not tell her what they really are, because if your mum finds out that they actually invented something for the specific purpose of eavesdropping on her…"

"Hermione, we're talking about Fred and George here," Ron said. "They're professionals at this."

At that moment, Ginny burst in, Crookshanks in her arms. "Did you both hear that?"

We nodded grimly.

"Let's go, then," Ginny said in a very business-like way, setting Crookshanks down.

"Go where?" I asked.

"To hide the rest of the Extendables, of course. Come on."

"Absolutely not!" I cried. "We are going to stay right here, and when your mother asks us if we know anything about this, we're going to deny it. The twins brought this upon themselves. If your mum confiscates the Extendables, then it's their own fault!"

So that was how I found myself up in Fred and George's room a few moments later, frantically stashing every single skin-coloured piece of string out of sight. Halfway through our hiding efforts, the door creaked open and we all froze. However, it was just the twins, having returned from the telling-off of their lives. But instead of looking properly ashamed, they strode in like war heroes.

"Well I hope you're proud of yourselves!" I said shrilly, hands on my hips.

"Excellent, you've hidden most of them…we were just going to do that…" said George in delight.

"Fat lot of good they're going to do, now! If your mother catches you again, we'll all be grounded for life!" I said angrily.

"Don't worry, Hermione, Mum'll forget about this by supper," Fred said confidently.

"FRED! GEORGE!" came Mrs. Weasley's furious voice from downstairs. "THESE CUPBOARDS ARE NOT GOING TO SCRUB OUT THEMSELVES!"

"Well, she'll definitely have forgotten about it by the time we're thirty, at least," George said with a shrug.

Idiots.

  
Weekly Goals

1. Never, ever again allow myself to participate in a scheme conducted by the Weasley twins.

2. Astronomy revision.

3. Pay Bill back for buying Harry's birthday chocolates for us. Remind Ron again that while enormous amounts of chocolate were an excellent birthday gift, two absolutely gigantic boxes of Honeydukes's best chocolate is too much candy for a small army, never mind Harry.

4. Continue attempts to befriend Kreacher. Possibly ask Mrs. Weasley for helpful knitting/sewing spells to make elfish clothes?


	13. Thursday, 3 August

**Author's Notes: **I'm still alive! Sorry I haven't updated in a while, but the first few weeks of school have been pretty crazy. Between Frosh Week, lectures, labs, and assignments (already…they don't waste time, those crazy university folk…) it's been nuts. But fun. Except for Chaucer, who we're studying in English, and who is decidedly not fun. This guy wrote in like, the 1300's, so his English is different from ours. You know you're in trouble when you can't even decipher the first line. Whan that April with his shoures soote…yeah. Way to be, Chaucer.

Anyone wishing to join R.I.P. (Random Insanity Promoters) or S.A.S.S. (Students Against Stupid School), can contact Cryptic Dreams. I know I have.

To answer a couple questions – no, I have no clue how many chapters this fic will be. I'm guessing many. My plan was to do all of OotP, but I think I'm going to split it up into three separate fics: one for the summer, one from September til Christmas or so, and the last one from Christmas on. And no, Hermione does _not think Harry wants to die, whoever asked that. Heh._

I hereby induct Emily, Azyne, and Madison into the Fangirls/boys United fold. ^_^

???

_??? p.m._

Dementors. Dementors! They said he'd be safe there! They said people from the Order were watching him! And he was attacked by Dementors!!! Everyone's all in a flurry downstairs, running around and shouting…Mrs. Weasley just screamed at Mundungus Fletcher again. And I'm just sitting here with Ginny, writing in my stupid journal because I can't do anything else right now! Oh God, Harry, please be okay…please be okay…

Thursday, 3 August 

_12:05 a.m.___

I promised Mrs. Weasley that I'd go to bed, but I just can't. Things have settled down somewhat, but my heart's still pounding, even though they said Harry's fine…thank goodness he's fine…

But he could be expelled! He almost was, but then Dumbledore showed up at the Ministry…still, Harry has to go to a hearing. A hearing for saving his own life! It doesn't make any sense! There's got to be something that says an underage wizard can use magic to save his own life, they cannot expel him for that, I have to look it up…

Okay, Hermione. Deep breath. Harry's fine, and he is not going to be expelled. I should start from the beginning…

Ginny and I went to bed earlier than usual tonight – at about nine o'clock or so. We were so exhausted from cleaning the guest room all day that we went to bed straight away without talking or anything. Then just as I was drifting off, sinking into a nice, deep sleep, I heard someone quietly calling my name, trying to shake me awake.

"Hermione…Hermione, wake up. _Hermione!_"

I was so tired that I tried to ignore it at first. But then my brain registered that the voice sounded suspiciously like Ron's. And I thought, _What__ in the world is Ron doing in our bedroom in the middle of the night? And then I thought, __I am in my nightdress. And it is slowly riding up my legs._

I bolted up in bed, yanking the covers up over me, and stared at a very pale Ron in the semi-darkness.

That's when I registered all the noise downstairs – shouting voices, doors slamming, and people running about. My heart seemed to stop for a moment as my mind immediately created all sorts of horrible scenarios – Voldemort had finally attacked, someone had been captured by Death Eaters, someone was dead…

"What is it?" I whispered to Ron, alarmed. I noticed Ginny's bed was empty – Ron must have woken her first.

"I don't know yet," Ron whispered back shakily as I slid out of bed. "I heard all the commotion downstairs and came to wake up you and Gin. I think…I think it's something about Harry."

I went rigid. Then wordlessly, we both rushed out of my room and joined Ginny and the twins on the landing.

Mrs. Black was wailing. Below us, Mrs. Weasley, wearing a bright pink bathrobe, was screaming her head off at a cringing Mundungus Fletcher. Mr. Weasley was hastily tying a message to Errol's leg. Behind us, Sirius thundered down the stairs and then flew past us, trying to shrug on a robe as he ran.

"What's going on?" I whispered to the twins just as Sirius hollered, "Molly, what's happening?"

"THIS…THIS…" Mrs. Weasley spluttered, shaking with rage and glaring at Mundungus. "THIS ABYSMALLY IDIOTIC, SELFISH, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING – "

"Molly!" Sirius interrupted anxiously.

" – LEFT HARRY BEFORE HIS SHIFT ENDED!" Mrs. Weasley screamed. "AND HARRY WAS ATTACKED! BY DEMENTORS!"

Sirius froze. I felt all the air rush out of my lungs. Beside me, Ron's hands shot out and gripped the railing tightly.

"Is he – " Sirius began mechanically. But he was cut off as Dumbledore suddenly Apparated into their midst.

I've never seen a person look so positively terrifying. Dumbledore seemed three feet taller, and his face was contorted into an expression of fury. He said something very quietly to Mr. Weasley, which was drowned out by Mrs. Black's wailing, and then whirled to glare at Mundungus.

"Mundungus Fletcher!" Dumbledore snapped. He didn't say it loudly, but his voice seemed to echo throughout the house. Even Mrs. Black fell silent. "You could have cost us a life tonight," Dumbledore boomed furiously. He said something else to Mr. Weasley, and then Disapparated.

"Oh, my God," I whispered, sliding down the wall and sitting on the ground. Everyone started shouting again, and then Mr. Weasley noticed us. He groaned.

"Get back to bed," he ordered wearily. No one argued. Numbly, we all walked back into my room. I slowly sat down on my bed, and Ron sat next to me.

"You don't think – " George started to say.

"No," Ginny said firmly. She was very pale. "Dumbledore said 'could have'. He has to be okay…"

Ron was very still next to me. Then he did something very unexpected…he fumbled around in the dark, and then grabbed my hand. I squeezed it, trembling slightly.

"'Get to bed'…forget this. You girls stay here," Fred said decisively. "We're going to find out what's bloody going on. C'mon, Ron."

Ron released my hand and nodded mutely, and then the three of them left and pounded down the stairs. That's when I grabbed my journal and scribbled something nonsensical and illegible in it. A few minutes later, the boys returned with Mrs. Weasley in tow.

"It's all right, dears, Harry's fine," Mrs. Weasley said immediately, seeing the terror-stricked looks on our faces. "He and his cousin were attacked by Dementors, but he used his Patronus and now he's safely back at his aunt's and uncle's. He was very brave."

I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, Hermione, you're pale as a ghost," Mrs. Weasley said sympathetically. "I'm sorry you all had to hear that downstairs, you probably assumed the very worst…"

"Who sent them, though?" Ron demanded. "The Dementors, that is."

"We don't know yet," Mrs. Weasley replied, sounding very tired. "Your father just sent Harry a letter to stay put and not surrender his wand – "

"Surrender his wand?!" I cried. "But they can't possibly…it was self-defense!"

"Fudge," George and Ginny spat.

"Dumbledore's gone to the Ministry to make things right, though," Mrs. Weasley assured us. "Don't worry, Harry won't be expelled. Things are going to be just fine. Now everyone get back to bed."  
The twins protested loudly, but eventually Disapparated out of our room. A reluctant but relieved-looking Ron left on foot, and after promising Mrs. Weasley that we would go to sleep, Ginny and I were left alone. We spoke quietly in hushed voices for a little while.

"I hope Harry doesn't do anything rash, like leave his uncle's house," I said worriedly.

"Dad told him to stay put."

"He won't want to, though." A thought suddenly struck me. "They won't dare leave him alone after this, though! Maybe he can finally come here!"

"Maybe," said Ginny hopefully. She paused. "Who do you think sent the Dementors? You-Know-Who?"

"Maybe. Dumbledore did say they'd be quick to join his side."

We both fell silent after that, but I stayed wide awake, staring at the ceiling. I don't know how much time had passed before I heard Bill's voice out in the hall.

" – came as soon as I heard. They didn't take his wand, did they?"

"No, Dumbledore intervened just in time," came Mr. Weasley's voice. "He doesn't have as much influence as he used to at the Ministry, but it was enough. Harry still has to go to a disciplinary hearing on the twelfth, though…completely ridiculous…"

Their voices trailed off as they started up the stairs to the next floor. I sat up in bed, still wide awake, and grabbed my journal to write this all down.

They absolutely cannot expel Harry! Mr. Weasley's right, it's completely ridiculous! Hold on, I'm sure I've got a book in my trunk somewhere on Ministry laws…

_1:22 a.m.___

Aha! There is provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations! They can't possibly expell him now!

I think I just spelled 'expel' wrong.

Okay, I'm going to bed.

**Note:** I realized that this chapter had a small mistake in it. Harry was attacked on the 2nd of August. Hermione starts writing after midnight, which would make that the 3rd of August. My bad, it's fixed. ^_^


	14. Saturday, 5 August

**Author's Notes: Good to know that I'm not the only one who's had to suffer Chaucer. In seminar she made us read parts out loud. It was horrible. Now we're doing the Wife of Bath, the over-sexed, five-times-married, gap-toothed whore of the Canterbury Tales. Good times.**

No, I don't have an update list, unfortunately…but if you check my profile, I usually have a little update section and write down whenever I update, or you can check the "Author Alert" box when you review (yet another reason to review!). I think ff.net sends you an e-mail whenever I update if you do that.

I'm majoring in Biological Sciences, for whoever asked. But I'm in a program in which you can do your BEd at the same time as your BSc, so in five years I can teach high school! Yay! Still, I'm pretty swamped, and the only reason that this chapter is even up is because I cannot _stand Child and Youth Studies, and am making every excuse under the sun not to read the required reading for this week. Hence, chapter. Short but sweet. Enjoy. ^_^_

Saturday, 5 August

_3:32 p.m.___

I haven't had a chance to write much of anything lately, as holding a quill's been somewhat painful due to numerous cuts and beak marks on my hands. But Harry's still okay, and best of all – he's coming to Grimmauld Place! Tomorrow night! Oh, I was so relieved…he's going to be absolutely furious with us, though, if Hedwig was any indication…

Wednesday morning, after breakfast (we've been granted a brief repose from cleaning due to Mrs. Weasley being pre-occupied with being furious at Mundungus) the five of us gathered in the twins' room to discuss the Dementors, and the hearing.

"It's completely idiotic!" Ron said heatedly, pacing the room. "They can't expel a bloke for trying to save his own skin! What the hell was he supposed to do, drop his wand and say, 'Take me, I'm yours'?"

"Even Fudge is going to have a hard time trying to come up with grounds to expel Harry on. He can't go against his own law," I said confidently from the floor, where I was playing with Crookshanks. "I've looked it up."

"You would," Ron muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Noth – hey! Hedwig!" Ron exclaimed.

Sure enough, Hedwig was waiting impatiently outside the window. Ginny threw it open and Hedwig flew purposefully over to Ron, sticking out her leg. Ron detached three pieces of parchment from her leg and threw one to me, which was addressed "Hermione" in scribbled writing. I hastily opened it.

_I've just been attacked by Dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here._

"Mine says the same thing," Ron said, striding over and reading over my shoulder. "And the third's for Sirius, it – ouch!"

Ron yanked his hand away from a very angry-looking Hedwig. He tried to hop out of the way, but Hedwig soared towards him and started pecking at his hand again.

"Hedwig!" Ginny cried.

"What – the – hell – are – you – doing – you – stupid – bird – yeow!" Ron clutched at his now-bleeding hand. Hedwig gracefully circled him and then dove towards me. Crookshanks hissed loudly.

"Ow! Hedwig, stop!" I yelped, sticking a bleeding finger in my mouth and sucking on it. I tried to wave her away with my free hand, but only succeeded in getting pecked some more.

  
"Hm," Fred said mildly, watching as Hedwig doubled back to assault Ron again. "Harry must be really pissed off."

"Don't just stand there!" Ron hollered, dancing away from Hedwig. "Someone get this crazy bird out of here!"

"What's all the yelling about in here?" Sirius asked curiously, strolling in the door. Hedwig snatched up his letter in her beak and deposited it in Sirius's hands. "'I've just been attacked by Dementors…' what's this all about – ow! What's wrong with this owl?" Sirius tried to wave Hedwig, who had turned her sights on him, away.

"Hedwig, we're not allowed to give Harry a reply!" I tried desperately. "We swore to Dumbledore that – ouch! Stop it!"

"Harry's being brought here in a few days, so you can cut it out," Sirius told Hedwig sternly. This seemed to satisfy her, because she gave one more warning hoot and then sailed out of the room.

"He is?" I exclaimed. "Harry's coming here?"

"Yeah, as soon as Remus and Mad-Eye can organize it," Sirius replied, sounding pleased and looking happier than he had all summer.

"'Bout time!" Ron said enthusiastically. He then swore; one of his cuts was quite deep, and his finger was bleeding profusely. "Harry's got to have snapped for Hedwig to go that crazy."

"Well, you probably would have snapped too if you'd been attacked by Dementors," Ginny said coolly.

Later, when I was bandaging Ron's hands for him (he got the worst of it, possibly for calling Hedwig stupid and crazy), he abruptly said, "He's going to be furious with us when he gets here."

"I know," I said quietly.

Yesterday was pretty uneventful, save for when Tonks concocted an ingenious plan to lure Harry's relatives out of the house so that members of the Order can come take him away from there. He's supposed to arrive here tomorrow night, and the Order is evidently going to have a meeting afterwards. Half the Order volunteered to go get Harry, so I suppose they thought it reasonable to have a meeting if they're all gathering anyway. And apparently Snape's going to be there, to give a report!

"We should break out the Extendables, then," George said to us pleasantly last night.

"Absolutely not!" I said firmly at the same time Ron and Ginny said, "Definitely."

Some people never learn.

But Harry's coming! We're all going to be together again, and Harry will be safe, and we'll have the rest of the summer to spend with him!

I just hope Ron and I are wrong. I couldn't bear it if Harry was angry with us.


	15. Sunday, 6 August

**Author's Notes: To make up for last time's measly update, here's the long-awaited (and long-winded)…*drumroll*…first actual entry that pertains to stuff which actually happened in the book! Rejoice!**

I tried not to make it too repetitive…I know you've all read this dialogue before, so I tried to cut some of it out, and tried to put it into Hermione's perspective. Hope it works out all right. And for those of you wondering how Hermione can remember word-for-word _exactly_ what everyone says…just remember…its Hermione. ^_^

Sunday, 6 August

_10:12 p.m.___

Harry's finally here! And he's healthy and all in one piece and a tad…bitter, but I think he'll get over that. Hopefully he...got it out of his system tonight.

All day we watched, fascinated, as the Order planned out the final details of what Tonks jokingly called, "The Great Escape." She'd sent a phoney letter to the Dursley's which would get them out of the house for tonight. Once they were gone, a whole load of members of the Order Apparated to Privet Drive, where evidently a very surprised Harry (I don't blame him for getting scared, I know what it's like, and apparently they dropped right into his kitchen!) was quickly informed of what was happening and then Disillusioned. They waited for a signal from Arabella Figg and Mundungus, and then came here by broom. By broom. Harry must have been freezing; it's so cold for August, and way up there in the clouds where they had to fly for cover had to be awful…

Ron and I were waiting impatiently in his room for Harry's arrival, half-heartedly playing a game of chess (Mr. Black's old set has finally begrudgingly accepted me, although the white pieces are friendlier than the black), when the door opened and there stood a very pale, very baffled-looking, slightly taller Harry. We hadn't even heard them get back.

I shrieked and ran over to hug him, ecstatic to see him alive and intact. Moody had spent all day trying to organize a rear guard to take over in the event that everyone was killed during the attempt to fly Harry to Grimmauld Place. After hearing this, I just stood there with my mouth agape until Mrs. Weasley re-assured me that it was very unlikely that everyone would die in the attempt. Which was, of course, not re-assuring in the least.

I started babbling nonsensically while I hugged Harry. A happy-looking Ron closed the door behind him.

"Let him breathe, Hermione," he said, grinning widely. Harry still looked a bit overwhelmed, but he brightened when he saw Hedwig, who immediately flew over and perched herself on his shoulder.

"She's been in a right state, pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this…" Ron said, showing Harry the marks of Hedwig's fury.

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know – "

Somehow, though I…I don't know, I got the feeling that he wasn't sorry at all. Ron explained that we really wanted to give him answers, and that we were both going crazy that we couldn't tell him anything. But Harry didn't seem convinced. If anything, he began to look downright sulky.

"He seemed to think it was best," I tried explaining. "Dumbledore, I mean."

"I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles," Ron added.

"Yeah? Have either of you been attacked by Dementors this summer?" Harry shot back.

I mouthed wordlessly, taken aback.

"Well, no," Ron said uncomfortably. "But that's why he's been having people from the Order tailing you all the time – "

"Didn't work, though, did it?" Harry said coldly. "Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?" He told us he was glad Mundungus had left – he figured Dumbledore would have left him with his relatives all summer if he hadn't been attacked and done magic.

"Aren't you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?" I asked quietly.

"No." He started pacing, glancing around the room that's now his and Ron's. Bill said that he's all right in the guest room, even though we never did manage to get those Nargles out of the dresser drawers. But Bill's hardly here, anyway.

"So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark? Did you bother to ask him at all?" Harry asked casually.

Ron and I exchanged looks. This was exactly how we thought he'd react. We tried to explain, but Harry only grew increasingly edgy.

"Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted," he suggested coolly.

"Don't be thick," Ron said, looking flustered.

"Or that I can't take care of myself."

"Or course he doesn't think that!" I exclaimed.

"So how come," Harry continued very rapidly, "I have to stay at the Dursleys' while you two get to join in on everything that's going on here? How come you two are allowed to know everything that's going on?"

"We're not!" Ron tried to explain. "Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young – "

And then Harry exploded.

I can't remember word for word what he said; I was too busy standing there, gaping at him, willing myself not to cry. Harry has never, ever yelled at us like that. He just…every unpleasant and resentful thing he's probably ever felt just came pouring out. I know he was frightened and confused and frustrated, but…Ron and I were just doing as we were told, we just wanted him to be safe…I mean, he had every right to be angry, but some of the things he said…

"Harry, we're really sorry!" I finally interrupted, desperately trying not to cry. "You're absolutely right, I'd be furious if it was me!"

He just glowered at me, breathing deeply and pacing the room. Then he started firing questions at us, and we took turns quickly replying, scared that he might blow up at us again. We explained about the Extendable Ears and what we've been doing at the house, and told him everything we've learned about the Order and its members. Harry offered a somewhat plausible explanation of guard duty.

"Couldn't have been guarding me, could it?" he said sarcastically.

"Oh yeah," said Ron slowly.

Shortly after that, the twins Apparated in, and Harry seemed to lose steam after they teased him some about yelling. I'll admit, sometimes the twins can be half-decent, and somewhat useful. Even if they insisted again on risking the Extendables. Thankfully, Ginny showed up before they could do anything stupid.

After greeting Harry brightly, she turned to Fred and George. "It's no-go with the Extendable Ears, she's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door." She'd been chucking Dungbombs at the kitchen door, and they'd been sailing away; a sure sign of an Imperturbable.

"Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to," Fred said with a sigh.

"Snape!" Harry said in surprise. "Is he here?"

"Yeah. Giving a report. Top secret," said George.

"Git," added Fred. Now, I am not Snape's biggest fan, but he is on our side now, and I told them so.

Ron snorted. "Doesn't stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us."

This was true. Ron caught Snape's eye as he was leaving the first day we tried the Extendables, and Snape gave him the dirtiest look…

We went on to have almost the exact same conversation we had when I arrived at Grimmauld Place – Harry asked about Charlie and Bill (once again, I watched Ron's reaction when Fleur Delacour's name came up, and he seemed uninterested…not that I care…), and then the dreaded subject of Percy arose. At least Harry had the sense to ask about him straight away, unlike me. As soon as he mentioned his name, we all exchanged dark looks.

"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron said to Harry in an edgy voice.

"Why not?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding and Mum starts crying," Fred said darkly. And the said thing is that that's almost a completely accurate description of what does happen. Mr. Weasley broke a vase the other day when Percy's name came up, but Sirius assured him that it only held the remains of his Aunt Elladora, who started the tradition of beheading the house elves when they got too old. I furiously swept up the ashes and threw them in with the rest of the rubbish before realizing how extremely morbid and disgusting it was to sweep up someone's ashes. Ugh.

We quickly explained the situation with Percy to a shocked and decidedly less angry Harry. He had calmed down quite a lot by then. Like I said, he probably just had to get it out of his system, poor thing.

"But Percy must know Voldemort's back. He's not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row," muttered Ron. "Percy said the only evidence was your word and…I dunno…he didn't think it was good enough."

"Percy takes the _Daily Prophet_ seriously," I said in disgust. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows. We all exchanged looks. I didn't want to be the one to tell him, but since no one else spoke up…

"Haven't you been getting the _Daily Prophet_?" I asked nervously.

"Yeah, I have."

"Have you been reading it thoroughly?"

"Not cover to cover."

"Well, you'd need to read it cover to cover to pick it up, but they – um – mention you a couple times a week," I said. Harry began to say that he hadn't seen anything, but I quickly said, "I'm not talking about big articles. They slip you in, like a standing joke."

I gave him a few examples of the disgusting comments they've made…really, they're just building on Rita's stupid stuff…insinuating that Harry is attention-starved and wants people to worship him…

"I don't want anyone to worship – " Harry began, his voice getting louder again.

"I know you don't," I interrupted quickly, before he could get angry again. "I know Harry, but don't you see what they're doing? They want to turn you into someone nobody will believe. Fudge is behind it, I'll bet anything. They want wizards on the street to think to think you're just some stupid boy who's a bit of a joke, who tells ridiculous tall stories because he loves being famous and wants to keep it going."

"YOU-KNOW-WHO KILLED MY PARENTS!" Harry spluttered before going on another one of his tirades. But this one didn't sound angry – more hurt, and confused.

"We know, Harry," Ginny insisted, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"And of course they didn't report a word about the Dementors attacking you," I said furiously. You'd think that would be a big deal, a bunch of renegade Dementors attacking a teenage wizard and a Muggle boy. They didn't even try to discredit Harry or anything by reporting that he broke the Statute of Secrecy. They're probably just waiting until the hearing, where they can have a big, fat, ugly headline - **Harry Potter Expelled – but I re-assured Harry that they can't possibly expel him if they abide by their own laws. **

I wanted to talk more about the hearing, but the next second we heard Mrs. Weasley's footsteps approaching. Fred and George Disapparated with a loud crack, and Mrs. Weasley stepped into the room shortly after.

"The meeting's over," she announced. "You can come down now and have dinner.  Everyone's dying to see you, Harry. And who's left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?"  
"Crookshanks," said Ginny without batting an eyelash. "He loves playing with them."

Well, well, well, Ginny Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley ushered her out of the room to wash her hands, and Harry turned to us, looking slightly ashamed of himself.

"Look…" he began.

Ron shook his head at him. I quietly said, "We knew you'd be angry, Harry, we really don't blame you, but you've got to understand, we did try to persuade Dumbledore…"

Well, we didn't quite try to persuade Dumbledore…it was more like I yelled, "What about Harry?" But we did try to write him better letters, and we did try to convince Mr. Weasley to let him come here earlier…

"Yeah, I know," said Harry. Then, out of nowhere, "Who's Kreacher?"

"The house-elf who lives here. Nutter. Never met one like him," Ron said.

I frowned, clenching my fists at my side. "He is not a nutter, Ron."

"His life's ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on a plaque just like his mother," Ron said impatiently. "Is that normal, Hermione?"

"Well, if he is a bit strange, it's not his fault," I shot back defensively, hands on my hips.

Ron rolled his eyes and turned to Harry. "Hermione still hasn't given up on spew."

"It is not spew! It is the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare. And it's not just me, Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher, too," I said triumphantly.

"Yeah, yeah. C'mon, I'm starving," Ron said, starting towards the door.

Prat.

Outside, we saw a few members of the Order, Snape included, heading towards the door. An Extendable suddenly appeared in my face, dangling in front of the three of us, but Snape and company quickly moved out of earshot. One of the twins swore, and they hoisted up the ear.

After Tonks managed to knock over something, causing Mrs. Black to start up again (to Harry's amazement and horror), and Sirius had come running to shut her up, we all headed down to the kitchen for dinner. Bill was in there, cleaning up after the meeting, as well as Ron's parents. I only managed to get a brief glimpse of what looked like a map on an open piece of parchment before Mrs. Weasley hastily snatched it up and placed it in Bill's arms, scolding him for leaving it lying around. Mundungus was already in the kitchen, asleep and smelling faintly of smoke and old socks, but he woke up and was properly introduced to Harry, whom he apologized to. But I think he only apologized because Mrs. Weasley was giving him a look that could kill over Harry's shoulder.

Dinner was fairly uneventful, except for when the twins tried to set the table with magic and nearly chopped off Sirius's hand. It was afterwards that things started to liven up a bit.

"You know, I'm surprised at you," Sirius said off-handedly to Harry once we were finished and sitting back contentedly. "I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The kitchen pretty much exploded. Harry exclaimed that he had, and that we couldn't tell him anything, Sirius and Mrs. Weasley got into a row over what Harry should and should not be allowed to know, Fred and George indignantly started complaining that they didn't get their questions answered, and finally, Mrs. Weasley all but accused Sirius of being delusional.

"He's not James, Sirius!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," Sirius replied coolly.

"I'm not sure you are! Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

Now, although this probably wasn't the…most appropriate thing to say, and especially in front of Harry, I have to sort of agree with Mrs. Weasley on this one. Sirius is really great, and he's great for Harry – he's practically the only "family" he has, after all – but sometimes I think Mrs. Weasley's right. Sometimes, I think Sirius sees Harry as a replacement for Harry's father. It's not right, but I don't really blame him either…imagine losing your best friend…

Finally, Lupin intervened, and it was decided that Harry should have his questions answered, lest he get a "garbled version from elsewhere". I turned a lovely shade of red – he must know that we're still using the Extendables. Mrs. Weasley tried to send the rest of us to bed, but the twins refused to budge ("Molly, you can't stop Fred and George. They are of age," Mr. Weasley pointed out wearily), Ron and I insisted that Harry would tell us everything later anyway ("'Course I will," said Harry, and Ron and I beamed at him). In the end, only Ginny had to be taken away, kicking and screaming. But it was okay, because as soon as I got up to bed, I told her everything anyway.

Harry took a deep breath once everyone was somewhat settled. "Where's Voldemort?" he asked. Shudders all around. "What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news, and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything."

"That's because there haven't been any funny deaths yet, not as far as we know, anyway…and we know quite a lot," said Sirius proudly.

"How come he stopped killing people?" Harry asked. Shudders again.

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself," Sirius said in satisfaction. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."  
Well, actually Harry messed it up for him, just by surviving and then spreading the word – Dumbledore was the only person You-Know-Who was ever afraid of, and Harry managed to alert him immediately. They mainly skimmed over everything we've already learned from the Extendables – You-Know-Who's trying to build up his army first again, and the Order is trying to stop him from recruiting certain followers, like the giants. They're also alerting as many people as possible about his return. They explained Dumbledore's various demotions and how his name is now dirt with everyone thanks to the _Daily Prophet. We knew all this already. But then Sirius let something slip that was new to us._

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asked.

"Stuff he can get only by stealth," Sirius answered. Harry looked puzzled, so Sirius elaborated. "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

Ah-ha!

"Like what kind of weapon?" Harry asked. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra - ?"

"That's enough!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, having returned. She looked absolutely furious with Sirius. "I want you in bed, now, all of you. You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might as well induct him into the Order straightaway!"

"Why not?" Harry said quickly, looking hopeful. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight."

"No," said Lupin. "The Order is comprised of only overage wizards – wizards who have left school," he emphasized, glancing at the twins. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you…I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough."

We were all ushered to bed, and after saying goodnight to the boys, I went into our bedroom. The room was dark, but predictably, Ginny was lying on her bed, wide awake. She sat up as soon as I came in.

"Well?" she demanded.

I recounted the night's events, feeling rather tired despite the fact that it was still quite early to go to bed in comparison with most other nights at Grimmauld Place. Once I finished, Ginny crossed her legs on her bed and looked pensive.

"What do you think the weapon is?" she asked in a whisper.

"Maybe some sort of Dark magic…or some kind of Dark device…" I answered, involuntarily shuddering. "But what could possibly be worse than the Killing Curse?"

"I don't – " Ginny suddenly perked up, alert. "Mum," she said simply. Both of us slid under the covers and lay very still, breathing evenly. We heard the door creak open, and then softly close. Mrs. Weasley's footsteps faded away. After waiting a moment just to be sure she was gone, I leaned over my bed and grabbed my journal from its hiding place under my bed.

Tomorrow I think we're starting the drawing room, so I should really get to sleep. Oh, wait, Ginny's moving around in bed, I don't think she's asleep yet either…

_11:25 p.m.___

Well!

That's right, Ginny now I'm writing about you…honestly, she's still giggling…

When I was writing before, I could hear Ginny moving around in bed, clearly awake, but I continued writing since she usually doesn't say anything about my late night journal escapades. Tonight, though, I guess her curiousity got the best of her.

"Hermione?" she whispered.

I stopped writing. "Yes?"

"I really don't mean to be nosy, but…you spend half your nights writing in that book…I mean, not to be a snoop, but…" Ginny said nervously.

If there's one thing that I've learned in our few years of friendship, it's that I can trust Ginny Weasley. After a brief hesitation, I swung my legs over my bed and walked over to hers, sitting down next to her.

"It's a journal," I explained, a tad embarrassed. "I…er…found it in Diagon Alley a while ago, and it's a really neat bit of magic, actually…what's written in here only appears when I, and only I, touch the book."

Ginny looked impressed, and not at all like she was going to laugh at me for keeping a journal. "Wow, did you do that on your own?"

"Erm…no. The shopkeeper in Diagon Alley performed the spell to link me to the book, actually."

"Well, it's still very nice."

I smiled warmly. "Thanks, Ginny."

"Just as long as you don't write nasty things about me in it," she added with a grin, slipping under her covers again and wrapping them around herself.

"Oh, don't worry," I said wryly, returning to my bed, "the only person I write nasty things about is your brother." Eg. the prat comment I made earlier due to his degrading of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.

At this, Ginny started laughing hysterically. She rolled over to try to muffle the sound with her pillow, but I was not fooled. "What?" I demanded as I plopped down on my own bed again.

"Nothing," Ginny gasped out between fits of laughter.

"What?!"

"Nothing!"

I suddenly caught on and felt my cheeks burning. "GINNY!" I exclaimed loudly, scandalized.

"Shh, you'll bring Mum back!"

"You are absolutely disgusting! I meant that Ron's annoying sometimes and occasionally I write about that!" I hissed as the blood continued to rush to my face.

"I know…sorry, sorry, it just sounded so funny…"

In a huff, I started scribbling in here again, occasionally casting disgusted looks Ginny's way. After a few more soft giggles, she eventually started yawning loudly, and then fell asleep.

Really! That girl is hanging around with Fred and George far too much.


	16. Wednesday, 9 August

**Author's Notes:** I know it's been a while since the last update, and I apologize profusely…that crazy thing called school keeps interfering with my fanfic-writing time. The nerve of that schoolwork! Anyway, I somehow managed to write two short chapters, so hopefully I can get the next one up pretty soon. Enjoy – from your resident sleep-deprived, caffeine-addicted, nine-o'clock-class-hating university student, Silver Phoenix.

Wednesday, 9 August

_1:36 p.m._

I've been fairly bored today, since Mrs. Weasley gave us the day off after Ron was nearly strangled by a set of purple robes yesterday. I think she's finally realized that cleaning this house without the use of our wands to defend ourselves may be hazardous to our health. Anyway, she wants to approve a room with Sirius before allowing us to tackle it, just in case it contains strange stones that hypnotize you, or inanimate objects that bite you, or music boxes that lull you to sleep, or robes that try to strangle you to death.

That was actually quite scary - we found this dressing room adjacent to Mrs. Black's bedroom that we hadn't seen before, because the entrance was hidden. Sirius remembered something about it, though, and after yelling out every spell to reveal hidden doors known to wizard-kind, he finally found the door. Mundungus and Mrs. Weasley were with us, and also briefly Kreacher, who scurried off after Sirius threatened to chuck him out of the room. Honestly! Does he have to be so violent?

Speaking of Kreacher, Sirius absolutely forbade me to knit him clothes, pointing out that if I gave him new clothes, he'd be set free.

"And what exactly is wrong with that?" I asked shrilly.

Sirius sighed heavily. "Hermione, you're a bright girl, and I like you and all…but give it a rest with the house-elf stuff!"

Well.

I tried to broach the subject again, a few days ago when we were de-Doxying the curtains in the drawing room, but he just said no again and made up some lame excuse about Kreacher knowing too much about the Order to be set free.

Anyway, the six of us plus Sirius, Mrs. Weasley, and Mundungus slowly made our ways into the dressing room, which was downright creepy. Cobwebs were hanging everywhere, and there were inches and inches of dust. There were also a few eerie mannequins, which were wearing tattered-looking, but probably once very fine, dress robes.

"Ugh," said Ginny, looking around apprehensively.

Sirius, looking disgusted with the room, rolled up his sleeves, suddenly business-like. "Fred, George, run downstairs and grab a few mops for the younger ones who can't do magic, will you?"

"Hooray," said Ron unenthusiastically. Harry snorted.

"Will do, Sirius, old chap!" said George brightly as Sirius began giving the others orders. George took out his wand. Mrs. Weasley whirled around, but it was too late.

"GEORGE – "

"_Accio mops!"_

Four mops suddenly burst into the room, flying towards us at full speed. Harry quickly pushed Ginny to the ground and dropped down next to her, preventing two mops from knocking their heads off, I managed to jump aside at the last second to avoid the mop hurtling towards me, but Ron got his mop right in the stomach. He went sailing backwards with the force of it, and crashed right into a wardrobe. Dazed, he blinked a few times and rubbed his head.

"Whoops," said George meekly.

And so Mrs. Weasley was occupied with marching George downstairs while screaming at him when Ron and I started on the wardrobe he'd been hurled into. Sirius had left briefly to feed Buckbeak, Mundungus and Fred were trying to immobilize a mannequin that had started to inch out of the room, and Harry and Ginny were using the now-motionless mops to mop the floor.

"Stupid prat, he could've taken your head off," Ron muttered, tossing old robes into a heap on the floor.

"He knocked the wind out of you," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm used to – ARRGH!"

The ancient set of robes that Ron had been trying to remove suddenly came to life, swung upwards, and wrapped themselves around Ron's neck. He stumbled backwards, hands clawing at his neck while he made a choking sound. I screamed, and all activity in the room stopped.

"Oi!" Mundungus roared, hopping over a fallen mannequin with a short, stubby wand in hand. "Geroff him!"

The robes only squeezed harder. Ron's eyes bulged, and his face slowly began turning purple.

"_Vestita__ immobilus!" Mundungus hollered hoarsely. The robes abruptly relaxed their hold on Ron and dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap, just as Mrs. Weasley screamed in the doorway. She and Sirius had returned a few seconds before._

"Ronnie!" Mrs. Weasley cried, running over to her son, who was gasping for breath.

"You all right?" Harry asked in concern, while Sirius hurried over and Banished the robes from the room, lest they decided to act up again.

"Yeah, I think so," Ron said faintly. "Aw, Mum, I'm fine – " He tried to avoid his mother, who was either trying to hug him or suffocate him.

"That was wicked, Dung!" Fred exclaimed in delight. Mundungus shrugged humbly, and Mrs. Weasley looked over to him, eyebrows raised very high.

Mundungus got an extra helping of pudding last night at dinner, and Mrs. Weasley has yet to say anything disapproving about him since.

Ron's fine, but I was really scared for a second there. If Mundungus hadn't been there…I mean, Fred would have probably just ended up killing Ron if he'd tried to help him with magic, and the rest of us couldn't have used magic…Harry's in trouble as it is…

Speaking of Harry, he's been adjusting quite well, I think…I haven't seen Sirius this happy all summer, and the two of them spend quite a lot of time together. Harry hasn't been angry or abrupt with us ever since his tirade the first night he was here, but occasionally he'll fall into quiet, sullen moods which only seem to get worse when he discovers Ron and I whispering about how to make him feel better.  He's also determinedly avoiding the subject of the Ministry hearing on the twelfth. We've all followed suit – everyone's quite afraid of provoking or upsetting him right now – but the fact remains that the hearing is going to come, whether he likes it or not.

But other than the occasional depressing slump, Harry seems quite happy to be back with his friends, particularly Ron (who almost certainly feels the same way …he probably thinks I'm really boring and he was likely getting sick of hanging around with me all the time) and with Sirius. I'm happy for him, but he really needs to prepare for that hearing. I mean, it is less than a week away. I think Harry's scared, but he doesn't want to show it. I'd better look some information up for him, just in case he needs it…oh darn, Weekly Goals first. I was so excited about Harry being here this week that I completely forgot on Monday. Well, better late than never…

Weekly Goals

1. Do not be in the proximity of a Weasley twin doing magic for the rest of the month. I suppose that would make that a monthly goal.

2. Do not let Harry get expelled.

3. History of Magic revision.


	17. Saturday, 12 August

**Author's Notes:** Hello, friends! Another (short) chapter, huzzah! Thanks to all of you who keep reading and faithfully reviewing, especially my friends in the F.U., and those of you in the F.U. (Fan_boys_ United), subsidiary of the F.U. ^_^

Speaking of which, let's have a warm welcome for our newest members: tR00 kaNgaR00, Aeterna (thank you so much for all your awesome chapter-by-chapter reviews here, and on SQ), and Eliza (I don't know if you're already a fangirl, but you get to be one again for all your awesome constructive criticism). Also, big hug to Liebling because she had an awful day. *Hugs*

Something also needs to be said before I let you read this chapter – Jess, I'm afraid, is no longer on Gilmore Girls. That's right. They took him right out of the credits. Let us have a moment of silence.

…

Okay, now you can read. I apologize to Hermione in advance for portraying her as a psycho-freak. But if there was a chance that your best friend was going to be expelled from school and forced to live in Grimmauld Place for the rest of his life, and you were Hermione, you'd be freaking out too. ^_^

Saturday, 12 August

_8:05 a.m.___

They don't have a case against him. The law is on his side. There's absolutely no way that they can expel him if they follow their own laws.

So why is everyone so worried?!

Myself included. Logically, I shouldn't be worried, but I am. What if Harry can't come back to Hogwarts?! He'll have to live with his terrible relatives for the rest of his life with nothing to protect himself from the many Dark wizards trying to kill him becausethe stupid Ministry of Magic will have snapped his wand in two!!!

When Ginny and I woke up, Harry had already left, so I couldn't even give him the last few bits of advice that I'd forgotten to give him last night! What if he needs those bits of advice? What if something I could have told him would swing the trial for him?! If Harry's expelled, it's going to be all my fault!!!

Oh, this is unbearable, I'm going down to the kitchen to wait with everyone else…

_1:32 p.m.___

He got off, he got off, he got off!

All right, now that that's said…

THOSE HORRIBLE STINKING, SLIMY, IDIOTIC, MINISTRY…PRICKS!

They changed the time on Harry! The trial was supposed to be at eleven o'clock but they changed it to eight! Supposedly they sent Harry an owl, but it's obvious what they were trying to do – if Harry had missed the trial, it would have been a catastrophe! That is so low! I cannot believe the nerve of those people…and Percy! I can't even write about Percy, I can't believe him…

Harry is so lucky that they went so early, and that Dumbledore showed up. They were hoping he wouldn't find out about the time change and that he wouldn't come, but of course Dumbledore knew, and he won it for Harry, really. Harry said the look on Fudge's face when Dumbledore walked into the courtroom was priceless. We have the best headmaster ever.

When Harry came back, I thought I was going to faint. We were all talking in low voices in the kitchen, and then we heard a door slam upstairs and Mr. Weasley's voice. Everyone froze. A few seconds later, Harry walked into the kitchen. We all held out breaths, and then Harry's face split into an enormous grin.

"Cleared, of all charges," he announced, grinning broadly.

Ginny shrieked, Ron and the twins gave a whoop, Sirius's face broke into a grin, Mrs. Weasley gave a huge sigh of relief, and I collapsed into a chair.

"I knew it!" Ron yelled, dancing about. "You always get away with stuff!"

"They were bound to clear you," I said shakily, weak with relief. "There was no case against you, none at all."

Harry smiled. "Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off."

Fred, George, and Ginny started doing a little dance around the kitchen while chanting, "He got off!", so it was difficult to hear, but I could have sworn I heard Mr. Weasley say something about Lucius Malfoy to Sirius. I'll have to ask about that later.

Harry sat down to have some lunch and recounted the finer points of the trial. He was tried by the entire Wizengamot! How completely ridiculous! And Fudge tried to make it seem as if Harry had made the entire story about the Dementors up! Why anyone would want to make anything like that up is beyond me.

But Dumbledore surprised Fudge and called Arabella Figg, who was there when Harry was attacked, as a witness. Dumbledore was so clever – he out-smarted and completely humiliated Fudge just by being logical, which was exactly what I was going to tell Harry to do – be logical, and use their own laws against them. In the end, only about half a dozen members of the court voted against Harry! Oh, I'm so glad Dumbledore showed up…

The only thing that was a bit strange was, halfway through lunch, Harry winced in pain and clapped his hand to his forehead.

"What's up?" I asked, alarmed.

"Scar. But it's nothing," Harry mumbled, "it happens all the time now…"

Even so, I anxiously kept a close watch on him for the rest of lunch. But he seemed fine after that. Still, maybe he should tell someone about these pains, especially if they're happening all the time now…Sirius, or Dumbledore…

Oh, great. Ron just came in and told me to come downstairs, the twins are going to set off a bunch of Filibuster's Fireworks in the front hall to "celebrate Harry's narrow escape from a Hogwarts-less existence". I suppose I should go down there, this might be worth watching…maybe we can set off a firework under Mrs. Black's portrait; perhaps we'll get lucky and it will burn to the ground…

HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF!


	18. Monday, 14 August

**Author's Notes:** Another chapter, though short and sweet again. Don't worry, I think the one after this will be long. I think. I hope.

Check out my little author's page for some astonishing news…that's right, I've made a _web page._ Holy insert choice swear word indicating astonishment here!

Thanks, as always, to you loyal reviews and FU members. You rock my world.

Monday, 14 August

_5:54 p.m.___

Well, after all the excitement with Harry's trial, we had quite a dull weekend in comparison. The highlight was Saturday night, when Mrs. Weasley made an enormous dinner and we all celebrated with Harry. Kingsley showed up, as well as Tonks and that airhead Hestia (honestly, she giggles more than a twelve-year-old, and she's a grown woman…why they let her into the Order is beyond me…). Bill came home early to celebrate with us too, and Charlie sent an owl the very next day congratulating Harry.

"Don't expect anything from Percy," Ron joked bitterly after reading Harry's letter from Charlie Sunday morning. He's been especially resentful and angry towards Percy since Harry told him how he acted at the trial.

Harry looked uncomfortable at the mention of Percy. I think he's sorry he ever told us about seeing him at the trial. "Maybe he'll come around soon…" Harry suggested as we headed upstairs to continue our quest to make the attic somewhat sanitary.

"Or maybe he's the world's biggest prat," Ron said shortly, stomping loudly up the stairs. As he did so, we suddenly heard a violent rattling, presumably caused by all the noise Ron was making, coming from the drawing room. The three of us stopped on the stairs.

"What was that?" I asked, feeling apprehensive.

"I think Ron's mum said it might be a Boggart," Harry answered, glancing in the direction of the drawing room.

For a second there, I really wished that I could do magic – I've been dying to have a go at a Boggart ever since I was absolutely humiliated by that ridiculous one in third year. But then, abruptly a series of images rose to mind that were much more terrifying than Professor McGonagall telling me that I'd failed everything. Death Eaters on Arbour Court…Harry dead…Ron dead…

"Hermione?" Ron's voice snapped me back to reality. He was looking at me queerly. "You all right?" When I didn't respond right away, he gestured uselessly at my face. "You got all white, and…I dunno…"

"I'm fine," I snapped, before hastily and somewhat shakily continuing up the staircase. I distinctly heard Ron say, "What's with her?" to Harry.

I wonder if anyone else thinks about these things. I wonder if Ron has nightmares about Harry and I dying. I wonder if poor Harry sleeps at all. Does anyone else worry as much as I do, or am I just paranoid? Well, perhaps not paranoid…I mean, it's serious…he's back, and he's just…out there…anything could happen…

Oh great, now I'm going to be stupid and start crying again. I will not cry. I will not cry!

How could you ever stop talking to your family at a time like this? I don't blame Ron for hating Percy. If only he knew how much he's hurt his family…especially Mrs. Weasley. And especially Ron.

…I think I might hate Percy, too.

Weekly Goals

1. Consider writing to Hogwarts and demanding to know when the booklists are coming. I can only revise for so long…I'm going to have to start reading ahead, too…

2. Ancient Runes revision.

3. Figure out some other way to improve upon Kreacher's living conditions (besides clothes…stupid Sirius…)

4. Do not be childish and call people stupid.

5. Work on not hating certain peoples. Hate could possibly hinder attempts to achieve emotional satisfaction.


	19. Monday, 21 August

**Author's Notes:** Not much to note today…this chapter's slightly longer than the last few, so huzzah for that. I have a seminar today. Not huzzah for that.

Congrats to new fangirl, Lemony Apple! Lemony apple, eh? That's quite the oxymoron. Good times.

Enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to review – reviews lift us up where we belong…where eagles fly…etc.

Monday, 21 August

_9:11 a.m.___

So I'm not quite sure what just happened, but Ron smiled before he left, so I'm pretty sure everything's all right. I haven't written in here all week because there's really been nothing to write about, until this morning. The truth is, living at the Headquarters of the anti-You-Know-Who resistance is not nearly as exciting as one might think, especially now that we can't risk the Extendables. After nearly two months of being here, the novelty's worn off, and I'm just dying to get outside and get some fresh air, but we're not allowed. I don't see why not, it's not as if we're going to dance in the street wearing our robes and waving our wands about…well, the twins might…

We're all bored stiff (I am so sick of cleaning), but everyone's still in considerably good spirits. Particularly Harry, who's so thrilled to be going back to Hogwarts that he couldn't care less if he has to scrub mould out of cupboards for a few weeks first. Ginny, Ron, and I are happy because Harry's happy, and Mrs. Weasley's happy because we're all happy, and the twins are happy because I think they managed to invent something absolutely disgusting. Fred keeps getting nosebleeds, but he looks absolutely delighted every time he gets one.

So since everyone's so cheerful, it's sort of hard not to notice that Sirius seems less than overjoyed of late. And when Harry mentioned it too, I couldn't help but put my two cents in.

"Have either of you noticed that's Sirius's been…sort of…er, unhappy lately?" Harry put forth tentatively while he, Ron, and I were (surprise, surprise) scrubbing mould out of a cupboard yesterday.

"Yes," I said honestly.

"Well, you can't blame the chap, stuck in the house for the rest of the year while we get to go back to Hog – ugh, I don't think that part's mould, it's moving," said Ron disgustedly, pointing at something pulsing and slimy in the back of the cupboard. I grimaced and threw some Dungclave Powder at it. It vaporized in an explosion of green dust.

You see? This house is driving me up the wall.

"That's just it," said Harry slowly. "I think…I think he's upset that I'm going back to Hogwarts."

"Now don't you go feeling guilty!" I admonished him. "You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish."

So that may have been a tad harsh. But it's true, and I won't have Harry feeling guilty about not getting expelled. It's ridiculous. And I've been thinking more and more about what Mrs. Weasley said the first night Harry came here, about Sirius getting Harry and his dad confused…

"He'll have company!" I pointed out when Ron tried to rebuke me. "It's Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him."

"I don't think that's true," said Harry. "He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could."

"He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more. And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled," I said logically. "Then you'd both be outcasts together."

"Come off it!" Ron and Harry exclaimed simultaneously.

"Suit yourselves," I said, shrugging. "But I sometimes think Ron's mum's right and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry."

"So you think he's touched in the head?" Harry asked angrily.

"No," I said simply. "I just think he's been lonely for a long time."

At that point Mrs. Weasley came in, and after Ron made a comment about feeling like a house-elf, I had the most brilliant idea! What if everyone else had to live a house-elf's life for a day? Surely then people would realize how hard they work…that they deserve some decent wages for that kind of labour. There's that old saying about walking a mile in someone else's shoes, and…well, most house-elves don't have shoes, but…that's besides the point…

So I was thinking perhaps we could do a sponsored scrub of the Gryffindor common room, with all proceeds going to S.P.E.W.! It's sort of like when I was younger, and our school did those sponsored walk-a-thon's for kids less fortunate than ourselves, so we would not only raise money, but we'd also get a feel of what it's like to have to walk so many kilometres just to get clean water every day. I remember Matilda Hamilton used to always complain about having to walk ten minutes to school, and she never did after that. Perhaps it will work the same way for house-elf labour – the scrub can raise awareness and funds!

I was all excited after that, and actually felt motivated to do something productive S.P.E.W.-wise for the first time in weeks. But then, of course, Ron had to be a prat.

"Lay off Sirius a bit, will you?" he said as we were heading to bed that night. Harry was still playing Gobstones with Lupin in the kitchen, but Ron and I were dead tired. Maybe it's because we've been here longer. Grimmauld Place slowly brings you down…

"I was just being honest," I replied.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're just peeved at Sirius because he won't let you free that barmy house-elf."

I stopped climbing the stairs. "He is not barmy!"

Ron stopped walking, too. "Will you just give the whole spew thing a rest?" he asked tersely.

"No, I most certainly will not give it a rest – "

"Well then, can you just shut up about it?" Ron shot back, annoyed.

"Can you just shut up about shutting up about it?" I retorted.

I was really tired.

"That didn't even make sense!" Ron yelled.

"Well, half the time you can't form coherent sentences either!"

"I – what?"

"There! You don't even know what 'coherent' means!"

"I don't even know what we're arguing about!"

"S.P.E.W.!"

"Oh yeah – WELL IF YOU'D JUST GIVE IT A REST – "

"WELL IF YOU'D STOP BEING SO IGNORANT AND PREJUDICED – "

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?"

"YOU WERE YELLING FIRST!"

"I WAS NOT!"

"You see?" I shouted. "This is what happens when we have to live in the same house together for two months!" I started stomping up the stairs again.

"WE LIVE AT THE SAME SCHOOL ALL YEAR!" Ron called after me. I reached my bedroom, yanked open the door, and slammed it shut with all my might.

Ginny looked up from the book she was reading, grinning.

"What are you smiling at?" I demanded. Ginny just shrugged and, still smiling, returned to her book. I lay down on my bed and fumed for a while, staring at the ceiling with my arms folded across my chest. Then Ginny put out the lights on me, so I was forced to go to sleep.

It's amazing how much better you feel after a good night's sleep, though. I woke up this morning feeling much less irritable and slightly guilty. I had just finished dressing and was, truth be told, considering apologizing to Ron, when there was a knock at the door to my room.

"Hermione? Are you…erm…decent?" came Ron's voice.

"Yes, come in," I answered. Ron walked in and closed the door, staring at the ground. He rubbed the back of his neck. I played with the bracelet Mum gave me for Christmas.

"About – " I began.

"Yeah," Ron muttered.

"I didn't – "

"Me neither – "

"Okay."

"All right." Ron smiled sheepishly and gestured at the door. "Well…breakfast…"

"Be down in a minute," I said. Ron turned and walked out of the room, leaving me with no idea what just happened. But I'm fairly sure everything's okay now. Wow, I think that's the closest either of us have ever come to an apology.

Perhaps there's hope for us after all.

Weekly Goals

1. Write to Hogwarts, demanding booklists.

2. Defense Against the Dark Arts review.

3. Try not to quarrel with Ron. Had outstanding record all summer, until yesterday. Re-establish peace, as arguing with him has thus far not aided in achieving emotional satisfaction.


	20. Monday, 28 August

**Author's Notes: **The dreaded midterms approach, as well as my first few formal essays. Hence, lack of updates. But when your Wife of Bath essay somehow turns into the next chapter of Sorceress Diaries, you know it's time to take a break. Especially when the Wife of Bath starts having a conversation with Harry. In Middle English. o_0

Monday, 28 August

_8:09 p.m._

Booklists have still not arrived, but I've decided to let it go, seeing as Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall are likely extremely busy doing important things for the Order. I don't know why I didn't think of that before. I feel very foolish about that letter I sent now…

Viktor had some exciting news in his last letter – he's been asked to play Quidditch for one of the Bulgarian teams (I can't remember the name of the city, it's a mouthful) full-time now that's he out of school! Not that it's a big surprise – according to that _Quidditch Monthly magazine Ron gets (I thought he collected them, but I rescued this issue from the trash…hm, maybe he's decided to read something worthwhile, then) Viktor was a shoo-in. He's very modest about it, and he tries to make it seem as if it's not a very big deal, but I still think that it's absolutely wonderful for him. He said that they might be coming to England for some sort of exhibition next month, and if I'm not too busy with school and all I might go. I think it'd be lovely to see him again, even if the prospect of watching a Quidditch exhibit or exhibition or whatever it is isn't that exciting. Perhaps I'll bring Harry with me; Viktor asks about him quite a lot, and Harry's a big Quidditch fan. Maybe I'll even venture to ask Ron to come too…if he promises to be on his best behaviour…_

Nothing of importance is happening around here. We saw Snape two days ago, but he left in quite a rush. He said something about having a "previous engagement" that he had to hurry to.

"Where d'you think he was going?" Harry asked later, when we were cleaning the kitchens. I think he meant for it to be a serious question; I've wondered a lot about what exactly Snape's been doing for the Order. Would Dumbledore make him risk going back to You-Know-Who?

"Perhaps he was going to see a lady friend," Ron, who was in a very silly mood, suggested. He waggled his eyebrows and then began dancing with the mop he was using. Harry and I watched silently as he cut across the kitchen with the mop, doing the tango. 

When we didn't laugh, or say anything, Ron stopped and stared back at us. "What?"

Harry caught my eye, and then the two of us burst out laughing. Ron grinned and joined in, and then we couldn't stop. Snape, his imaginary lady friend, and Ron doing the tango in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with a mop…it was just so ridiculous that it was hilarious. We just kept laughing and laughing hysterically, until we didn't even know what we were laughing about any more. Mrs. Weasley found us ten minutes later, hunched over and clutching our stomachs with tears in our eyes. She thought that Fred and/or George had jinxed us.

It was the first time I've seen Harry laugh – really, really laugh – since what happened at the end of last year. I think it's the first time Ron and I have laughed that hard since last year as well. And it felt good. I felt like…with everything that's happened…that it wasn't right to laugh. But I think that's all we have left now: hope, and laughter. I hope that didn't sound too philosophical or Mrs. Crick-like. But we're definitely going to need some laughs to get through this year.

  
Weekly Goals:

1) Begin Care of Magical Creatures revision. I know they're busy with far more important things at Hogwarts, but still…I do hope the booklists come soon…I'm running out of subjects to revise for!

2) Write back to Viktor.

3) Ask Harry to come to Viktor's match with me.

4) Work up nerve to ask Ron to come to Viktor's match with me.

5) Write Mum and Dad.

6) Find socks that have been mysteriously disappearing within the depths of Grimmauld Place. Crookshanks may be involved in said sock disappearances. Further investigation is required.

7) Try to laugh more often. May aid in emotional satisfaction.


	21. Thursday, 31 August

**Author's Notes:** Well, this chapter concludes The Sorceress Diaries: Book 1 *sniff*. But never fear! I'm going to get started right away on Book 2, which is going to cover Hermione's fifth year from September to New Year's. Be sure to keep checking back for that…I'm going to try to put up the first chapter soon. ^_^

By the way, does anyone happen to know when exactly Hermione's birthday is? I know it's sometime in September, but I can't remember if there's anything in canon to indicate which day exactly. Thanks, folks. ^_^

I also have a funny story – the other day I was driving around with my friends, and there was a car in front of us that had a bumper sticker that said "FU" on it. I proceeded to shriek and then start laughing hysterically. My friends were all like, "That is so rude. Who puts that on their car?" and I was sitting there squealing, "Yes! FU bumper sticker! That rocks so hard!" I so totally want an FU bumper sticker! Every member of the FU should have one. It can come in the package when you join, I suppose. So congratulations to new fangirls Jade (if she hasn't died from lack of oxygen yet), Squirrel Maiden of Green, Sara Black, kissedbyarose88, and shoelessgirl! Enjoy your FU bumper stickers. ^_~

Just to clarify, in Chapter 17, Ron did not see Hermione's diary/journal. He simply came upon her writing in a book. As this is probably not out of the ordinary, Ron had and still does not have any idea that Hermione keeps a diary. Only Ginny knows. Just FYI. ^_^

And an oxymoron is two directly contradicting things, like cold fire or jumbo shrimp. Heh, jumbo shrimp. It's early and I can't think of good examples right now.

Wow, longest author's notes ever! On to the chapter! And don't forget how extremely awesome reviewing is.

Thursday, 31 August

_3:24 p.m.___

Prefect! PREFECT!

Oh, I'm so excited, what an amazing surprise! I'd nearly forgotten about it, being cooped up here and with everything that's been going on – well, I didn't forget about it, per se, and it wasn't entirely unexpected, but still – I'm a prefect! And so is Ron! Ron!

I have to confess, I thought it would be Harry. I was convinced it would be Harry. And I felt so foolish when I burst in there and saw him holding the badge…I just assumed…I mean, it's Harry. But Dumbledore must have his reasons. Besides, Ron's…done a lot too…he's really…well, I'm really, really happy for him. And since he's the other prefect, I'll be spending a lot of time with him this year, so that's good…I mean, it's good that it's Ron, instead of someone else like Dean or Seamus or someone I don't talk to very much…

But here I am again, getting ahead of myself.

The booklists finally arrived this morning. And, well…I know this is horrible, and that I must be extremely conceited and not at all humble and modest like Viktor…but I was expecting the badge to fall out of the envelope when I tore it open. I mean, not to be stuck-up or arrogant or anything, but…who else could it be? Parvarti or Lavender? I do have the best grades in the year…and probably the best reputation…

Ugh, I am so very conceited! Mrs. Crick would have a field day with this. It's probably some sort of arrogant, socio-emotional complex or something. I really hope no one ever figures out how to read this journal, because they'll find out just how very conceited I am.

But really…who else would it have been?

Well, I shrieked at the top of my lungs when the badge fell out anyway, and then tore up the stairs to Ron's and Harry's room. I burst in; Ron, Harry, and the twins were already in there, all looking stunned. And Harry was staring in shock at a badge in his hand, identical to mine.

"I knew it!" I exclaimed, waving my letter in the air. "Me too, Harry, me too!"

"No," Harry said in a strained voice, quickly shoving the badge into Ron's hands. "It's Ron, not me."

My arm froze mid-wave. "It – what?"

"Ron's prefect, not me."

"Ron?" I spluttered in surprise. "But…are you sure…I mean – "

Then I saw the look on Ron's face.

Now, besides feeling extremely foolish, not to mention embarrassed, I also felt guilty. Why hadn't I thought of Ron? Ron's just as smart as Harry…and just as brave…and just as kind…and yes, he's pig-headed sometimes but he can also be surprisingly…I don't know. But I felt very, very stupid. He looked offended, but I think he also looked…hurt? Or maybe I was just imagining things.

"It's my name on the letter," he said coldly.

"I…I…wow!" I exclaimed, blushing. Accursed blushing. "Well done, Ron! That's really – "

"Unexpected?" George supplied.

"No…no it's not…Ron's done loads of…he's really…" I almost said something like 'great' or 'sweet' or 'nice' and then caught myself. I don't know why I couldn't give Ron a compliment…I suppose I would have felt silly…

Then Mrs. Weasley came in, and of course the twins had to spill the beans immediately (they didn't even let Ron give her the good news, honestly, you'd think that being a prefect is a sin or something with the way they were behaving…quite frankly, I think they're just jealous). Although Ron seems a bit uncertain about the whole thing, his mum is buying him a broom, so he's happy. Mrs. Weasley was thrilled as soon as she heard, of course, and that reminded me that I should owl my parents right away. At least 'prefect' is something they can understand. I just sent Hedwig off, actually…Mum and Dad will be so thrilled!

The only person that didn't seem very thrilled (apart from Fred and George, but they're just prats, so they don't count) was Harry.

Once Ron had dashed from the room, saying something about his broomstick, an awkward silence descended upon Harry and I. I looked at him. He looked away and walked over to his bed.

"Harry?" I tried.

"Well done, Hermione," he said in a voice that sounded extremely fake. "Brilliant. Prefect. Great."

"Thanks," I said, for lack of something better to say. I wanted to tell him that he deserved it too…that perhaps Dumbledore had chosen Ron because Harry will be busy with Quidditch and whatnot…but that would have been like accusing him outright of being jealous.

"Erm – Harry?" I said instead. "Could I borrow Hedwig so that I can tell Mum and Dad? They'll be really pleased – I mean, prefect is something they can understand."

And, once again, I take the prize for being the most insensitive person in the world. Well, maybe second place; Ron usually takes first. That was so the wrong thing to say…poor Harry, he must have thought I was rubbing it in his face, but I really wasn't trying to, it just came out wrong…

"Yeah, no problem!" Harry said in the same strained voice. "Take her!"

I took a few uncertain steps forward, and Harry turned his back to me. I quietly called Hedwig, and after hesitating a moment, I left the room with Hedwig perched on my shoulder. I didn't know what to say. Harry always gets everything; usually it's Ron that needs mollifying. It was strange to see the situation reversed. But hopefully Harry will realize that this is a wonderful thing for Ron…hopefully he'll be happy for both of us.

_10:02 p.m.___

I was just looking over the previous entry, and now I feel bad about what I wrote. "Harry always gets everything." I suppose it's partly true – after all, he was the youngest Seeker on the Quidditch team in over one hundred years, he got to be one of the Hogwarts champions, he's always had fame…but Harry didn't want any of that. Well, except perhaps for Quidditch. And now that I think about the things he's been through, I feel even more terrible about him not being chosen as a prefect. As I said before, I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons – but with everything that's happened, everything the _Daily Prophet's_ been saying, wouldn't he want to show a little faith in Harry?

Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy for Ron. I'm glad that he was chosen; I think in such a large family, he sometimes gets lost in the crowd, and I could tell he was pleased that his mum had a special party for us tonight. And let's face it - Ron's self-confidence could do with a little boosting.

But even he agreed that it was strange Harry wasn't chosen.

To backtrack, Mrs. Weasley returned from Diagon Alley at around six o'clock (with our books, thank goodness…there's only two new ones, though, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts text is quite disappointing). She gave Ginny and I our things, still beaming, and hurried off to give Ron his broom, calling over her shoulder for us to get ready for dinner.

"The twins were being such prats, honestly…you'd think being a prefect was some sort of sin, the way they were carrying on," I told Ginny as we headed downstairs.

"Well," said Ginny tentatively, "Percy was a prefect."

"Oh." I stopped on the stairs, suddenly feeling foolish. "I hadn't thought of that."

"But so were Bill and Charlie, and they turned out fine," Ginny pointed out. I smiled weakly, and we resumed walking down the stairs, past those dreadful heads, which I still haven't successfully figured out how to get down. 

"The twins just like to tease the rest of us, that's all," Ginny said under her breath with a smile as we came upon the boys in the front hall. Harry was looking and acting a bit more like himself, and Ron was clutching his new broom lovingly. The twins were glaring scathingly at either Ron or the broom, I'm not sure which. We entered the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the dinner table, reading: "Congratulations - Ron and Hermione - New Prefects". I beamed.

"I thought we'd have a little party, not a sit-down dinner," Mrs. Weasley told us, glowing. "Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron. I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled."

Fred rolled his eyes. I shot him a dirty look.

Tonks, Kingsley, Mundungus, Bill and Moody showed up later on, and each congratulated Ron and I (though Moody in his own peculiar way). Mr. Weasley made a toast, and even Harry looked genuinely happy for us. Ron seemed too pre-occupied with his new broom to talk about our prefect duties, so I gave up on him and ended up getting into a great discussion with Professor Lupin about elf and werewolf rights.

When I went up to the table with Ginny for another baked potato, Mrs. Weasley swooped over and gave me a motherly kiss on the forehead.

"Congratulations dear," she said with a smile. "I'm sorry I didn't properly congratulate you before, I was all in a dither! Oh, it's so wonderful that you and Ronnie will be prefects together…"

"And before you know it, they'll be getting married…" said Fred, heaping food onto his plate.

"…having children…" continued George.

"…who will also be prefects…"

"…and their children's children, too…"

"Oh shut up, you two," Ginny said, seeing how red my face had become.

George smirked. "Well done, Gin. Keep it up and Hermione might just make you the maid of honour."

"Ginny's going to be whose maid of honour?" said Harry from behind us. I whirled around; he was standing behind George with an empty plate, waiting to get seconds. Thankfully, Ron was still halfway across the room, talking animatedly to Tonks about his broom. 

"No one's," said Ginny breezily. "Baked potato, Harry?"

I could have sworn the corners of Harry's mouth twitched before he nodded and accepted the offered potato. Really.

Mrs. Weasley turned in early, and after talking to Moody for awhile, a quite pale-looking Harry quickly left as well. Speaking to Moody can often have that effect on a person. Tonks, Bill and Kingsley bade us goodnight around nine o'clock, the twins disappeared with Mundungus, and Lupin and Sirius retired shortly after. After waving his wand to set the cutlery and plates to cleaning themselves, Mr. Weasley left as well, yawning. Ginny started playing a game which I like to call coax-Crookshanks-out-from-under-the-table, while Ron sat down and started polishing his broomstick. I sat down opposite to him and smiled. Ron barely glanced up at me before returning to his broom.

"Well?" I prompted him.

"Well?" he repeated.

I sighed in exasperation. "Well aren't you excited?"

He shrugged.

"You know that we're supposed to go to the prefect carriage as soon as we get on the train, right?" I asked. "I suppose that's where the Head Boy and Girl will explain everything to us, and we'll get to find out who the other prefects are. Who do you think it is? I wouldn't be able to stand it if Malfoy was made prefect for Slytherin, although I have this horrible feeling that he will be, with his father's money and reputation. But I do hope Hannah Abbott is one of the Hufflepuff prefects. Last year she was always saying how much she wanted to be one – "

"I know we're supposed to go to the prefect carriage, I read the letter," Ron said quite brusquely.

Ginny rose to her feet with Crookshanks clutched in her arms, glanced at the two of us, and then quietly left the kitchen. I stared at Ron and took a deep breath. I knew what this was about.

"Look, Ron," I began slowly, "I'm sorry, I just thought…that Dumbledore would choose Harry…what with everything that's happened…"

Ron looked up from his broom, suddenly looking sheepish. "I know," he said quickly. "Sorry."

"I mean, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you but I just thought that – what?" I furrowed my eyebrows, caught off guard. Apologetic and forgiving aliens had apparently abducted the real Ron and replaced him with a well-disguised member of their own species. 

"I thought it would be Harry, too," Ron muttered.

Evidently the aliens are honest, too.

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. "It's not that he's any better than you, Ron," I said gently. "It's just that…well…"

"He's Harry," Ron finished. "I know. He's always been Dumbledore's favourite." He shook his head. "So why did he pick me?" he asked in a low voice.

"Well, because you deserve it!" I exclaimed.

Ron looked at me skeptically.

I felt my face going red again. "I mean, you're smart and…you've done all sorts of brave things…and you're very loyal to your friends, obviously, and…well, you've leadership skills, and that's important for a prefect…"

Ron's ears went slightly pink. "Leadership skills?" he said, looking pleased. "Really?"

"Well, sure!" Again with the horrid blushing!

"Well," Ron said, looking a bit happier. He rose from his chair, broomstick clutched close. "We'd better get to bed…long day tomorrow, you know."

I nodded in agreement, even though I wasn't (and still am not) tired in the least – I don't know how anyone can sleep before the first day of school! Especially after an entire summer in Grimmauld Place, how could you not be ecstatic about going back to Hogwarts? But I followed Ron upstairs anyway. I do hope he doesn't drag that broom around with him everywhere all year.

"Well…see you tomorrow," I said once we got to the landing.

"Yeah," Ron said with a small smile. I turned to the bedroom door and he started heading up the stairs.

"Uh…Hermione?"

"Yes?" I asked, turning around.

"Thanks," Ron blurted out. Thankfully, he quickly pounded up the stairs, so he didn't see my face flush red. Stupid, stupid blushing!!!

This has really got to stop.

But on a lighter note – tomorrow! Finally, fifth year! I know it's going to be difficult what with O.W.L.'s and all, but I'm actually looking forward to the O.W.L.'s – and apparently this year we also get to look into career paths. Career paths! There's so much I want to do after Hogwarts, I don't know what to pick!

So with prefect duties, S.P.E.W., O.W.L. prep, not to mention regular homework, and choosing what I'm going to do for the rest of my life, I'll probably be much too busy this year to dwell on things that should not be dwelt upon. Much too busy. No more blushing or acting silly; this year is a time to get down to business and study.

In fact, I may even be too busy to write in here. I expect I won't be able to write in it at all this year, with my busy schedule!

Save for perhaps once every few months.

Well…maybe once every month.

Or…every few weeks.

And I suppose I still have to do my Weekly Goals…I'll just have to write in it every week.

Maybe more than once a week, should anything important should happen…

But it is not a diary.

It's still just a journal.


End file.
